


The Wedding Crasher

by BakerGrey



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Endgame Niall Horan/Harry Styles, Happy Ending tho, M/M, a bit angsty, sex and stuff, wedding au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-23
Updated: 2015-05-23
Packaged: 2018-03-31 22:06:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 26,675
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3994642
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BakerGrey/pseuds/BakerGrey
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s the week before Niall’s wedding and the arrival of an old friend threatens to ruin it all.</p><p>**</p><p>“You were the one who walked away Harry, just upped and left,” Niall reminds him with a cold stare, because Harry has no right to be doing this, especially on the eve of his wedding day, especially when they’ve been ignoring this.<br/>“I was so stupid Ni, really stupid and scared, god it’s pathetic.”<br/>Harry reaches to stroke at Niall’s pale cheek, but the shorter boy shifts out of reach. This frustrates the younger man and his hand curls into a fist before he bites out<br/>“This won’t make you happy, your family yeah, but not you.”<br/>Niall watches as his long fingers relax.<br/>“I can make you happy.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Wedding Crasher

**Author's Note:**

> I don't even know anymore.  
> No beta so yes I probs make mistakes.

His mother thinks that marriage is all he’ll ever need.

Niall, however, isn’t so sure.

You see, as much as he enjoys the idea of exchanging vows with his lovely fiancée, it’s not what he had envisioned for himself.  Niall’s completely to blame of course, because it was his decision to propose even though he’d barely just turned twenty five.

He doesn’t enjoy admitting to the fact that there was some peer pressure from his family involved, because, he quotes ‘Barbara’s just so pretty and would provide him with such beautiful children.’

He does love her, she’s intelligent and graceful and everything that Niall isn’t, so much so that sometimes he wonders how on earth he got so lucky, which just makes him feel even worse for being unsatisfied.

Barbara’s organised an autumn wedding and Niall still doesn’t see what all the fuss is about. Maybe it’s because he’s a man and the most important moment of his life had been the day in which he had experienced his first pint. He is _Irish_ after all.

The way he sees it, a marriage’s success isn’t based on the extravagance of the reception nor the number of people involved, he likes simplicity, some close friends and a quiet lunch would suffice.

Maybe that’s why he feels so in over his head with it all, because there’s enough pressure being placed on him already and now he has to make sure that this whole thing doesn’t cock up, that he doesn’t cock up.

Soon he’ll be a married man and everything will fall into place.

 

***

 

He hasn’t been home to Mullingar in a long while.

Coming back feels good, really good, the air seems fresher, even if the skies are a cloudy grey and a thunder storm threatens to brew over.

He’s not surprised that his ma wanted the ceremony to take place in Ireland, it’s a family tradition, or so she says. Not much ever changes, like she wants to keep time frozen, and deny that both he and Greg are so far gone, even if in reality the latter only lives down the road.

His room is still the same shade of blue, his golf clubs resting against the broken set of chest of drawers.  There’s the odd sock and some tatty Nike trainers, a pile of books he’s half read, and an old medal he won the year before Bobby died when he was sixteen.

That’s about it though, everything else he took with him when he moved to London. At the time it was like he was attempting to remove all traces of himself, he wanted his mother to realise he was really growing up and that it was good for her to move on.

But when he looks around, he’s glad it’s still the same, because it’s his space and he can be alone here, reminisce on his childhood when things weren’t so complicated and life wasn’t as intense.

“Thought I’d find you here.”

Niall looks toward the semi open door and smiles as Liam, his best friend and coincidently his best man, takes two small steps forward.

“Just reliving my youth,” he cracks and Liam sits down next to him on the freshly made bed.

“You’re still young,” His brown eyed friend assures with a soft knee pat but it doesn’t change the fact that Niall feels aged.

Liam’s been sent to check up on him, and most likely to get him to return to the greeting party. Zayn, Liam’s boyfriend, is probably listening to countless Irish euphemisms that he can’t depict and wondering why on earth he’s been abandoned.

“They’re waiting for you Ni.”

Barbara’s most definitely losing her head with trying to talk to everyone; she’s got this ability to keep her cool on the outer surface whilst she panics within.

“Better get a move on then,” Niall says but Liam stops him momentarily.

“You’re going to be fine, trust me.”

Niall pushes his doubts aside and focuses all of his attention on Liam’s words, a false sense of security coursing through him as he descends the staircase and walks across the floor towards the main room.

He can hear the hubbub of his family and friends talking, squeezed into the space provided for them by Maura. It’s not a small house, his family have no money qualms and they’ve rented some of the holiday lets nearby for the long distance guests with the exception of Liam, Zayn and Louis, because they’re the only important ones as far as Niall is concerned and there’s enough beds to go around.

He doesn’t really get why they’ve had to have another engagement party here in Mullingar but he’s taking a back seat in the organisation of things, letting his bride to be decide when things go on.

“Listen Niall, there’s something I should probably tell you-” Liam begins but he’s cut off by the cheer that erupts from Louis as soon as Niall’s foot is through the door and he’s shouting “Vegas Baby!”

“Not quite Lou,” He manages to smile before his ma is at his side and fixing his shirt collar so that he feels like he’s being coddled again.

“Late to your own party,” She tuts and gives him a light push away from his friends that indicates he’s required to ‘ _mingle_ ’.

All he really wants to do is sit down and have a beer with the boys, he casts a backward glance and can vaguely see what appears to be Liam telling Louis off, probably because Lou  has made some snide comment about who bottoms in his relationship with Zayn.

Niall’s thought about it before, strictly out of interest, because he really can’t figure that one out. He assumes it’s Zayn, for the most part.

“Who’s Janey Mac?” Ironically it’s Zayn who startles him, face in a brood.

“Jesus Christ,” Niall answers as he takes the glass of red wine Zayn hands him. He’s not all too keen on it but whatever gets him through the night.

“It’s not my fault your country men speak at the speed of bloody light, just tell me who she is,” Zayn scowls and Niall laughs at him.

“Jesus ya twat, some of the proper devout say it to avoid taking his name in vain.”

“Oh,” the darker haired boy says and Niall’s laughing even harder.

This is why he needs these lads, because they can relax him even when he’s itching all over waiting for this to be done. He really doesn’t like big events like this.

“Anyway I was talking to one of your cousins, think his name was Aidan? I can’t really remember to be honest seeing as you have about twenty of them, and he was telling me about the Mullingar riots, said it was only a few lads having a row in a field.”

Niall ignores Zayn’s sass and nods “Yeah, he’s a… character.”

“Point being, I’m too good a friend for you to lose, so point me in Liam’s direction.”

Niall rolls his eyes but jabs his thumb over his shoulder anyway and shakes his head fondly as Zayn moves out of sight.

 

***

 

He doesn’t particularly socialise, Niall takes on more of an observatory role.

 There are a couple of people who come over to congratulate him, some of whom he hasn’t seen in years and it’s nice of them to make an appearance, even if it’s mostly for the free booze.

Barbara finds him maybe thirty-five minutes into it; she’s all shiny hair and bright smile, just like Niall likes.

“You look awfully grumpy for someone who’s getting married in a weeks’ time,” She pouts and perches herself on the arm rest of the seat he’s occupying.

“Just missing you was all,” He sweet talks, stretching to kiss her lips.

She’s soft and supple and Niall thinks that this isn’t bad at all, he’s just overanalysing things, so what if he likes it rougher than she gives, so what.

A voice clears its throat above them and Niall looks up to see Liam hovering awkwardly.

“Can I talk to you for a sec Ni?” He asks.

Niall nods lazily as Barbara vocalises something along the lines of ‘I’ll leave you to it,” and saunters away, Niall’s eyes trained on the curve of her hips.

“Did Zayn manage to find you?” He probes Liam who seems to be waiting for something.

“Yeah, and now he’s brooding because I’ve left him to watch Tommo for ten minutes.”

“What’s up?”

“I need to talk to you,” Liam repeats, his expression serious.

“Ya said that already,” Niall deadpans, because he’s finally begun to relax and Liam has to go and ruin it all with his intensity.

“In private.”

Niall can’t ignore the dread pooling in his gut, and he stands to his full height, following as Liam starts weaving through the gathering of people. Liam walks with long strides which is nearly impossible in this environment but somehow doable for him and it’s not really fair because Niall has shorter legs.

“So?” He huffs once they’re out in the hallway, his right shoulder leaning against the wall. Liam doesn’t look all that relaxed either, especially with that glum look on his face like he’s about to scold a young child.

He realises that Liam’s always been the bearer of bad news, it’s forever his duty to be the messenger, and Niall thinks it’s his calm nature that does it.

Liam scratches at the stubble lining his chin “It wasn’t my idea,” He admits vaguely.

Niall’s eyes narrow and he stands up straight “What wasn’t your idea?” He enquires slowly because this does not sound good at all.

“Well you see-” His friend begins but the sound of Maura’s voice is drifting through the hallway and cutting him off.

“You’re such a sweetheart Harry,” Niall hears from behind him and Liam’s eyes widen at the sight.

Niall’s confused at first because he doesn’t have any relatives named Harry, nor friends for that matter. There’s only one Harry he can think of and the idea of it being _him_ makes Niall want to burn.

“It’s my pleasure Maura,” This so called Harry chuckles and Niall nearly drops his wine glass, because even without seeing him he knows that this Harry is _that_ Harry.

“No,” Niall stammers as he turns his head, eyes casting over his mother and the man he’s spent so long trying to forget.

It feels like the walls around him are shrinking when he sees him helping his mother carry more bottles of white through to the living area.

Harry doesn’t look at all tense when Niall meets a pair of green eyes that haven’t aged a day.

Niall wants to throw up, or scream.

He doesn’t do either, just hands his wine glass to Liam and stalks towards the bathroom wherein he locks himself without a word, leaving his mother to look on confused.

 

***

 

He’s not left alone for long, the knocking on the door sounds sloppy and he really hopes it’s one of his plastered uncles needing to piss. Niall makes no move to open it but the aggressor continues to persist and now he’s getting a headache from the posh wine he’s been on.

He grumbles as he gets to his feet and prays that he has the luck of Irish with him today, he lets it swing open and, long story short, he doesn’t.

“Hi.”

Harry Styles is staring directly at him and Niall just about shuts the wood in his face.

“Can I come in?”

And Niall wants to punch him square in the jaw for how casual he sounds.

“Please?”

He scoffs at the cheek of him, his face turning an angry shade of red as he steps past Harry and tries to walk away.

“Ni, come on,” Harry pleads lightly and his hand clutches at Niall’s forearm.

Niall looks down at where they’re conjoined and yanks his arm away, maybe he’s being a little bit dramatic about all of this; he blames it on the drink.

“You’re looking well,” Harry says and Niall rolls his eyes, no words leaving his mouth.

“Are you seriously giving me the silent treatment?” The curly haired man asks ludicrously and Niall takes a menacing step towards him.

“It’s no less than ya deserve,” He seethes up at Harry, because what the fuck is going on?

Surely this is some sick prank.

Harry gulps visibly because Niall’s always had the ability to make himself intimidating.

“I know,” He sighs and Niall wants to laugh bitterly at how he’s playing the victim.

Niall is the victim.

 Harry’s victim.

They’re both standing in the now empty hallway, Niall glaring at the side of Harry’s face. His curly hair is longer and he looks thinner, perhaps more defined, but that’s all the change Niall can see. Not that he cares at all about how Harry’s been these past years.

“You’ve gone natural,” Harry notes, trying to break the ice again as he points at Niall’s own brunette head of hair.

“People change,” Niall mutters dryly and he doesn’t even attempt to hide the fact that it’s a dig in Harry’s direction.

Harry hums in agreement and this just feel wrong, Harry shouldn’t be here.

“Who invited you?” The Irish man asks. Who on earth thought this would be a good idea?

“Louis,” Harry says and of course, why isn’t Niall surprised, only Louis could be _this_ stupid.

“Well he shouldn’t have,” He snaps and angrily trades his empty glass for Harry’s full one, downing the sickly sweet content for the Dutch courage.

“I’m not here to cause any trouble Niall, if anything I’d like to make peace.”

Niall pulls a face “Make peace? This isn’t some treaty we’re talking about here Harry; you made me feel like fucking shit and didn’t even have the courtesy to tell me why,” He’s getting worked up and looking at the cause isn’t helping.

“I’m-”

“I don’t care, I don’t care okay? Just stay out of my way.”

Niall can’t do this right now, he needs to find some liquor and drink until his thoughts about the past go away.

 

***

 

Fuck yeah, Niall thinks as he finally gets his hands on some proper whisky in the cellar where his ma keeps the annual stock of booze.

He slumps down on a barrel and unscrews the top of the bottle before taking a long sip and letting the burn of his throat distract him.

He knows that it’s frowned upon, mixing alcoholic beverages, but the red crap he’s been on isn’t quite hitting the spot.

He’s sulking, because for the second time tonight he’s found himself hiding away, only now he has good reason to.

Niall groans loudly and grips the glass in his hand tightly, he hasn’t seen Harry in so long and now it feels like an overload, Harry’s in _his_ house, talking to _his_ mother like nothing’s changed, like he didn’t lead Niall on.

And then there’s the part of him that can’t ignore the fact that Harry’s still attractive to him, Harry with his long legs and tattoos that Niall can’t help but _like_ it. They’d been all he had wanted at one point.

He nurses his pain with more fiery liquid and then puts the bottle back, hiding it in case he needs to find comfort in it once again during the upcoming week.

The stairs are blurrier as he retreats back to the guests, hoping that most of them have had their merry way and buggered off. He’s in a right foul mood.

Alas, there’s still an unruly chatter and it doesn’t help that on occasion Niall sees double. He’s not all too tall so he has to stand unsteadily on his tiptoes to try and make out the lads; he’s got a right bone to pick with Lou.

“Nialler!” Louis jeers as he rams into his side, almost knocking Niall to the ground.

Speak of the devil.

“Did you get my surprise?” Louis slurs giddily and, fucks sake; he’s more hammered than Niall is.

“Surprise?” Niall echoes with mock humour, god Louis can be a right knob.

“Tall, curly and handsome,” Louis winks, eyebrows waggling as he leans his weight against Niall for support.

“Oh Lou, you idiot.”

“Appreciate it man,” Louis smiles, pressing their cheeks together.

Niall shakes his head in annoyance “I mean it, what are you playin at?”

“Nothing!” Louis defends in disbelief “Just thought it would be good for you two to make up, Harry’s sound.”

Niall realises that talking to Louis right now is like talking to an untrained dog, it’ll just keep on yapping happily even after you tell it to shut up.

“Just try not to drink anymore yeah?” he sighs, guiding Louis to a seat and then brushing off his shirt.

He barely makes it four steps away before Barbara’s back and telling him that everyone wants to hear about how the proposal went down.

Niall groans and she flutters her dusty eyelashes at him, leaning forward to kiss his lips with a loud smack.

Only he doesn’t enjoy it now because he’s tense and thinking about Harry.

“You do it,” He grumbles, his mind foggy with drink and irritation.

This night is already driving him crazy and he _can’t_ do it because he feels like it’s all for show now.

She doesn’t look all too pleased, but Niall’s in no state of mind to give a fuck and he stares at her pleadingly, eyes wide like he knows she always fall for.

Barbara sighs, but it’s airy and he knows he’s won because then she’s walking over to her ‘audience’.

Niall’s left standing there with a glass that’s as empty as he feels.

It takes a moment before he notices Zayn heading towards the main door out of the corner of his eye, for a fag no doubt, and Niall chooses this to be the prime time to ambush him, or well, at least to rant to him.

Zayn’s lighting up when Niall approaches, the cool night air making him shiver.

“Alright?” His mate questions as he sees Niall appear.

Niall scowls at him but Zayn gleefully inhales a drag and blows smoke from his nose.

“Let me guess, you were in on it too.”

Zayn shakes his head “Oh god no, that was all Lou.”

Niall shoves him anyway because he’s smirking like an evil genius and Zayn raises one hand in surrender.

“Well what _do_ you think about this whole thing?” He asks, because Zayn is Liam’s other half and he’s learnt how to give good advice over the years due to the latter’s mentoring.

“Shouldn’t be a big deal right?” Zayn says with a shrug “S’not like you’re still into him or anything?”

Niall doesn’t like the way Zayn’s speaking with a hint of arrogance, like he thinks that this whole thing with Barbara is complete bollox and Niall is obviously still hung up on Harry.

_He isn’t._

“He did fuck me over,” Niall states, in case Zayn’s forgotten.

Zayn smokes his cigarette and clicks his tongue.

“I know, and that was dickish, but he obviously still cares if he’s bothered to come all the way out here and show you support.”

Niall chews the inside of his cheek, because yeah, Zayn can make it sound simple and easy but Harry’s not here because he ‘ _cares_ ’.

“I don’t want him to be bothered Zayn, he was gone and now, well, he’s not.”

Zayn turns to him and places a hand on his shoulder, the other releasing the finished butt. “You never wanted him to be gone Ni, you two were, I can’t even explain it.”

Niall’s shoulders slump and Zayn’s hand drops due to the created slope, fishing in his pocket for another smoke. He tries to remember when chain smoking became a habit of his, not that the negative effects of tobacco have shown any signs on Zayn’s tanned face.

“Don’t let Harry ruin this for you mate, you’re getting married to a fit bird and we’re gonna get hammered every day this week.”

Niall pulls at his own earlobe, skin cold due to the icy air that he can’t really feel because the alcohol is keeping him warm.

“Guess I am just stressin’.”

Zayn sucks in a quick breath “It’s natural,” He concludes wistfully.

Either way, Niall doesn’t like it.

 

***

 

When Niall gets into bed that night, Barbara sleeps close to him and his eyelids are heavy.

His mind is doing that annoying thing though, wherein he can’t actually drift off no matter how tired his body is.

He thinks it’s probably due to the unease he’s been feeling ever since Harry showed up and then he’s remembering the bottle of whisky he’s hidden in the basement.

It’s enough to have him throwing on some black sweat pants and creeping down the corridor in the semi dark, all thoughts of his sleeping fiancée subsiding as he thinks about his soon to be night cap.

He hums the melody of a song that had been playing during the engagement party as he pads downstairs, knowing the walls are thick and no one will be awoken by his wanderings.

The basement is cooler than the rest of the house and it makes him regret not putting a shirt on. He finds the bottle and sits on the bottom step, the door above slightly ajar to provide a slither of light.

He’s drinking alone and in the dark, it doesn’t get more pathetic than this he thinks.

He closes his eyes as he sips away at the rapidly emptying bottle and then lets them blink open when he hears the door above him closing, the room descending into darkness and he hears the wooden stairs creak.

Before he can ask as to who is there, a figure is sitting beside him and his blue eyes have just about adjusted to the change in lighting.

Niall takes another slug as he makes out Harry’s curls.

“What do you want Styles?”

He doesn’t respond at first, just shuffles a little and then Niall can feel Harry’s knee knock against his.

He hates how Harry still remembers that this is where he comes to ‘unwind’.

“Nothing really,” Harry murmurs and makes blindly for the whisky Niall’s holding, doing it quickly so that the Irish boy can’t protest until after he’s had some.

Niall snatches it back and petulantly wipes at the mouth as if Harry carries some sort of disease.

 _Long way to travel for nothing_ , he thinks but doesn’t vocalise.

He doesn’t want to give Harry the satisfaction of knowing he’s interested in what he has to say.

“Or maybe,” He pauses “I’m intrigued,” The Cheshire accent admits, but he sounds cocksure and Niall doesn’t know what to think.

He lets the silence that follows linger and rolls the empty bottle away on the concrete floor.

“Why aren’t you sleeping?” Harry asks him, confidence in his voice feigning upon the realisation that Niall isn’t going to play along with his game.

He wants to say something like ‘What do you care?’ but he’s not fifteen anymore.

“Just can’t,” Niall breathes quietly, almost a whisper.

He’s finding it hard to believe that he’s talking to Harry again, that he can feel Harry’s body heat working its way over the left side of his bare torso.

He’s too drunk to have the energy to walk away from him again.

“Niall?”

“Yes Harry?”

“I’m sorry.”

Niall nods once in the dark, but he doesn’t say that it’s okay.

And he doesn’t say that he forgives him because he can’t, no matter how long he’s been waiting for an apology.

“You should probably get back to bed,” The Irish boy finally announces, it’s not the friendliest tone known to man but the harshness that had roamed his voice earlier has taken a back seat.

Harry doesn’t make any move to go and then Niall’s getting irritated because he needs Harry to leave now.

“I said piss off,” He grumbles and yeah, the last ten minutes have made no difference to how he feels whatsoever.

 

***

 

He eats a late breakfast with Louis and they’re both hung over, so naturally the conversation is rather gruelling.

It reminds him of mornings with his dad, when he’d let Niall have one beer too many the night before and laugh as he paid the price the next day.

“Pass the brown sauce,” Lou grits out, his throat dry and Niall watches as he squeezes a large amount onto his fried egg.

“I think I’m gonna be sick,” Niall groans as Louis cuts up his runny egg and mixes it with the HP so that it literally looks like shit.

The younger brunette sips at his creamy coffee; it’s the only thing he can keep down right now.

“You’re gonna need your energy for tonight mate, don’t expect this to be a onetime thing,” Louis tells him with his mouth full and an attempt at a wink that only has him wincing.

There was never any doubt.

“So,” Louis ventures warily once he’s swallowed and Niall waves him off knowing he’s going to bring up Harry.

“Forget about it, s’not your fault yer ma gave birth to a twat.”

Lou sticks his tongue out at him but Niall can see the little contented smirk that’s appearing and it’s something he’d rather not know the meaning behind.

 

***

 

“You’ve never mentioned Harry before,” Barbara notes as the two of them look at a sample of her chosen floral arrangements for the wedding’s reception.

The sun is shining through the conservatory roof and Niall knows it’s all a deception because the outside air is cold.

“He’s just an old friend,” Niall utters dismissively as he leans down to sniff at the flowers, noting that the sweet smell disagrees with his nostrils.

He’s never seen the appeal of flowers, they’ll die eventually.

“Did you two have a falling out?” She pries, obviously intrigued as to why Niall is so reluctant to divulge this information to her.

“Something like that,” he answers with a half-truth.

Barbara hums beside him as she strokes delicately at the petal of a bright peony.

“I haven’t really spoken to him,” She tells him with a distant voice, more preoccupied by the bouquet in front of her.

“He’ll be polite if you do,” Niall remarks, even though it’s the last thing he wants to happen.

Barbara doesn’t need to know about the nature of their previous relationship.

“Is he staying here at the house?”

Niall nods disgruntledly “Mum insisted.”

“So she knows him well then?”

Niall wishes she would stop asking so many goddam questions.

“Yeah, he’s been a here with me a couple times during Uni.”

It’s an understatement but he’s not going to tell Barbara that, she seems satisfied with this and stands back to admire her work.

“Do you think I made the right choice with these?” She wants his opinion.

“They’re lovely,” Niall responds almost immediately, not wanting to express his actual distaste for them.

Hey eyes narrow like she knows very well that he’s just telling her what she wants to hear. She smiles with satisfaction anyway.

“Behave yourself with the boys tonight,” She instructs him with a pout and leans into his side to press a small kiss to his rosy cheek.

“When do I not?” He teases and then she’s snorting with as much grace as possible.

 

***

 

“Let me guess,” Niall hisses at Louis once they’re all sat in the local pub, footie playing on a flat screen across from him “You invited him.”

Lou smiles innocently, blue eyes glittering with a mischief that often drives Niall insane.

Harry’s sat opposite him, observing in silence as Zayn whispers something into Liam’s ear.

“Doesn’t half remind me of Uni,” Liam comments when the Bradford lad’s pulled away and is sipping at his pint.

Niall flushes at the thought, because this is nothing like that, and he’s relieved that he’s managed to wedge himself between Louis and the wall.

“It’s good to see that you guys are still together,” Harry smiles, Zayn smirking at the words and wrapping an arm around Liam’s shoulders.

 “Relationships are futile,” Louis announces wistfully, leaning forward so that his elbow is resting upon the wooden table.

Niall doesn’t fail to notice the way Harry’s gaze shifts to him at the statement.

“And why do you say that?” Zayn asks, amusement present within his voice despite the fact that it’s somewhat of an insult to what he has with Liam.

Louis’s expression makes it pretty clear that he can’t quite believe he’s having to justify himself.

“Women man, they don’t know what they want.”

Liam pulls an unimpressed face as Niall says “That’s a tad stereotypical mate.”

“S’not,” He defends, and Niall’s got an inkling as to what’s brought this on but he doesn’t bring it up because Lou is a right touchy bastard when he wants to be.

“What have _you_ been up to for the past three years?” Liam directs the question at Harry, because it’s not only Niall whom he fucked off, it was all four of them.

Harry swallows down a mouthful of beer and shrugs.

“Not much, bit of this and that, moved to L.A.”

There’s a heavy silence that lingers after he speaks and Niall doesn’t know how to feel about all of this, that Harry’s travelled so far just to come to his wedding?

“You live in Los Angeles?” Liam repeats and Harry nods as if it’s completely irrelevant.

“Well what to you do? For a job I mean?” Zayn follows on, interest peaked by this information.

Niall knows that Harry is starting to feel under fire, can tell by the way his cheeks have hollowed slightly so that he can chew on the inside of them.

“I’m a photographer, nothin’ special guys.”          

“Wish I lived in L.A,” Louis grumbles, re-associating himself with the conversation.

Harry licks at his lips “Well what about the lot of you?”

 “I model, small jobs, but good pay.”

Everyone had been expecting it; Zayn’s an annoyingly good looking man.

Niall let’s his eyes flicker over to the bright screen of the television, he doesn’t want to know what Harry’s been doing, doesn’t want to _fill him in_ like he’s been on some sort of annual leave from their friendship.

“Tommo and I work together in software development,” Liam smiles, and Niall can tell by the tone of it that they’re all secretly thrilled to be spending time with Harry again.

There’s more silence, bar the hum of other drinkers, and he knows they’re expecting him to share next as if it’s some sort of circle time at school.

“Niall?” Harry murmurs out softly, a tone that doesn’t match up to his usual self, the one that adorns confidence.

“I sell guitars,” He tries not to bite out, because he’s actually incredibly angry right about now and his glass is emptying before anyone can conjure up a response.

“I’ll go and get another round,” He suggests, shoving at Louis to let him up and crossing over to the bar.

Having Harry around might just damn near turn him into an alcoholic.

 

***

 

Niall doesn’t feel nearly drunk enough an hour in, his vision is still clear and he often can’t stop himself from glaring at brunette curls.

They haven’t spoken directly to one another, and Niall’s thankful for that because he might just call Harry every name under the burning sun.

Zayn disappears for a cigarette and Louis goes with him, the two of them best smoking buddies.

Niall’s trying to gauge as to whether or not Liam is highly intoxicated, his brown eyes look brighter but that might just be from the shine of the light above.

He doesn’t like the brewing tension so Niall blurts out “How’s Anne?”

Harry doesn’t hide his surprise at being addressed; and Niall detests the smugness that settles into his features.

“She’s uh, well I suppose,” He mumbles, and Niall knows that there’s more to it, however he’s not obliged to give a fuck anymore.

Liam, although unsubtly, cuts into the uncomfortable silence

“Damn those reds.”

Harry doesn’t even seem to acknowledge the game playing its last few minutes, whilst Niall takes the given opportunity to pretend that he’s enthralled by it all.

“I’m gonna go grab us another round,” Liam suggests only to be instantly rebuffed by Niall’s loud “No!”

The discomfort grows as Liam’s cheeks flush pink and then Harry rolls his eyes in Niall’s direction before standing “I’ll go.”

Once his long legs have carried away Liam turns to him with distaste.

“What the hell is wrong with you?”

Niall defiantly slouches back against the padded seating and shrugs.

“Don’t make this weird Ni,” Liam attempts to bargain.

Niall feels outraged.

“Weird? You don’t think it’s already weird enough what with him having travelled god knows how many hours to come to his ex’s wedding?”

Even Liam can’t deny that it makes no sense and rightly so. Harry’s up to something and Niall knows it, like he’s got a sixth sense when it comes to the man.

“You’re interpersonal skills are really quite astonishing, has anyone ever told you that?” Liam jibes and all Niall can do is flip him off before Harry returns.

Harry doesn’t just bring back more alcohol; he throws a bag of salted peanuts down and slips into his seat.

Niall eyes the peanuts, his stomach starting to turn against him and he feels like Harry is abusing his weakness when it comes to food.

“Thanks,” Liam tells him gratefully, scowling when Niall doesn’t say a word.

Harry just shrugs and rips into the plastic, chewing carefully before swallowing and then pushing the contents towards Niall with a raised eyebrow.

Niall doesn’t see the big deal in accepting the offer, besides, he’s fucking hungry.

“Ta,” He manages with his mouth full and catches a glimpse of Liam’s eye roll.

Harry’s watching him as he eats and his cheeks are flushing a hot pink, and Niall needs to finish this pint of Guinness quickly so that his senses will numb.

By the time it’s at the halfway point, he can see Louis and Zayn returning and he feels relived because at least now they’ll be able to drown the tension out.

“Missed ya babe,” Zayn tells Liam with a sloppy grin that doesn’t deter from how handsome he is and Niall snorts at the sappiness of it all.

Zayn waves him off and kisses Liam’s ear, causing Niall’s gut to unsettle because he’s thinking about Barbara and how he’s almost certain they’re nothing like these two.

Niall’s vision shifts to his surroundings, how there’s a sea of people behind them, all of whom are speaking with the same thick accent that he does and he should feel at home but he doesn’t.

“Need some fresh air,” he speaks slowly, vaguely aware of them turning their attention back to him.

Louis slides to let him out, giving his denim clad bum a playful pat for good measure and then chuckling about it.

Outside isn’t exactly crowded per say but it’s not as people free as Niall had been hoping. He leans back against the brick building and looks up towards the night sky.

It’s clouded, dark grey mixing with navy and Niall sighs at the lack of stars.

“Niall?”

He groans internally as the voice breaks through his consciousness.

“Ya do realise I’m trying to get away from you?”

Harry aligns himself next to him and if Niall really tries then Harry fades into the background, dark clothes acting as camouflage.

“We can play pretend if you want.”

Niall’s jaw tightens as Harry speaks in that tone of his, the one Niall could never get enough of.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You know what it means Niall.”

He turns to face him, and Harry’s smirking like the devil that he is.

_He’s messing with you._

“Just cos we shared some nuts, doesn’t mean we’re pals again.”

Harry grins as the words leave his mouth and Niall doesn’t want to like it but he does.

“Pissed you off pretty bad huh?”

Niall can’t answer him; he’s feeling the nostalgia of the entire situation.

He tugs at the sleeves of his white jumper and flicks his tongue against his cheek.

“Can’t stand ya to be honest.”

And yeah, it’s a blatant lie, but Harry still flinches as the insult comes his way, cocky demeanour dented.

“Good to know you’re still hung about it.”

Niall’s  resolve cracks.

“In case ya haven’t noticed _Harold_ , I’m moving on with my life, it’s _you_ who’s still _hanging_ around.”

Harry’s green eyes narrow and Niall can feel the effects of the alcohol now, the false confidence it’s instilling in him breaking through his skin.

“Looks like you’re loving every minute of it,” Harry snaps in irritation and then he’s treading off.

 

***

 

Niall doesn’t go to bed when he gets home, just buries himself on one of the living room sofas, because he’s totally off the idea of having to see Barbara when it’s way past midnight and there’s the strong stench of alcohol on his breath.

The comfort of the couch is all he needs, the idea of body warmth seeming suffocating when he’s layered in all these clothes.

He’s got an urgent need to pee but he’s lethargic and no amount of discomfort is going to get him moving.

Hopefully his bladder will make it through the night.

 

***

 

Maura wakes him from his slumber, swatting at his head with a rolled up newspaper and an amused smile playing at her lips.

“You’ve got work to do,” She announces but Niall barely hears it over the ringing in his ears.

He splutters out a cough that grates against the dryness of his mouth and sits up, dark hair falling into his eyes.

“Where is everybody?”

Maura hands him a glass of water that he hasn’t realised she’s been holding before she speaks.

“The photographer’s cancelled.”

It doesn’t answer his question at all but it does get him to his feet and out into the garden where he spots his fiancée with _Harry_?

He shoves his hair back and tires to ignore the odd feeling that’s no doubt nervousness.

The air isn’t as cold now that it’s phasing into the afternoon and the sun has decided to make an appearance.

Barbara looks worked up, hands shoved into the pockets of her jeans, and Niall shuffles over to her, pulling her in for a hug.

He doesn’t look at Harry because there’s an unresolved tension looming from last night.

“You smell,” She breathes into his shoulder and he playfully pinches her arm, glad to know that at least he can provide a slither of comfort.

“So we’re a man down huh?”

She pulls back and nods, her eyes disappointed because he knows just how perfect she wants this to be.

It’s then that Harry reminds Niall of his never ending intrusion as he says ‘I’ll do it’ and the couple turn to him.

“No way,” Niall blurts out, façade diminishing momentarily at the idea of Harry being even more involved with it all.

Barbara gives him a quizzical look and Niall realises that he has to somehow save this.

“You’re a guest is all.”

Harry just shrugs.

“I don’t mind, honestly, it’s what I’m good at.”

Barbara is nodding, looking towards Niall for permission and she’s obviously been grilling Harry to know that he’s a professional photographer.

He wants to stay stubborn and tell them that no means no, only this is the easiest option and he wants Barbara to be satisfied.

“Fine,” Niall huffs “But it’ll be free of charge.”

He doesn’t dare give Harry time to disagree before heading upstairs to freshen up.

 

***

 

“Remind me again as to why I needed to assist you in picking up _your_ suit?” A pouty Louis asks him as Niall drives the two of them into town.

“Liam’s gone out for lunch with Zayn,” He explains, watching as the car in front of him indicates a left.

“Second best eh?” Lou grumbles, pressing his head against the cool glass of the window.

“Just shut the fuck up will ya? I’m tryna concentrate.”

He doesn’t need to look at his friend to know that he’s pulling a face, and he takes it as a positive that Louis keeps quiet for all of a minute.

“What did Harry want with you last night?”

Niall takes in a calming breath, reminding himself that this is Louis, he’s always been intrusive.

“You bumped uglies didn’t you?” The tattooed boy gasps out and Niall’s lucky they’ve pulled up at a red light because it gives him the chance to thump Louis’s head.

“Don’t be so ridiculous.”

Lou snickers beside him before turning serious.

“Tell me.”

And Niall knows he has to because no matter how much of a knob, Louis doesn’t give up easily.

“He’s mad that I’m mad,” Niall summarises in hopes that his passenger will find it all rather confusing.

“Right,” Louis deadpans, reaching to fiddle with the radio and letting Beyoncé echo in their ears.

Niall notices the droplets of rain spattering across his windscreen and sighs because he’s not got a water proof with him.

Louis is still preoccupied with his thoughts on Harry.

“I know you probably don’t want to hear it mate, but you should give him a chance.”

His grip on the steering wheel tightens in frustration and then he’s honking his horn at a white Volvo that’s just cut in front of him.

“Cunt,” He calls out to the driver that can’t hear him anyhow.

Louis shakes his head because they both know towards whom Niall’s anger is really directed.

“You want to know why I really invited him Ni?”

“Because yer an imbecile?” Niall snaps impatiently, nerves heightened by the forming queue of traffic.

The rainfall is heavier now, his wipers crossing back and forth creating a rhythmic hum.

“You need the closure mate, s’not good to have something like this looming over you.”

Niall sniffs.

“Doesn’t have to be the week of my wedding though does it?”

“Personally couldn’t think of a better time.”

“And why is that?” Niall guffaws, attempting to find some humour in what he’s hearing.

“I just don’t want you to make the wrong decision.”

Suddenly this isn’t funny at all and Niall can feel the heat rising to his cheeks as he drives through an amber light.

The radio is still playing mindless tunes; Niall wants to throw it out the window.

“You think that me marrying Barbara is the _wrong decision_?”

He doesn’t often argue with Louis but right now, his self-control really is being tested.

The car comes to an abrupt halt as Niall parks into a permitted space and shuts the engine off.

He’s looking at Louis for an answer, irritated by everyone else’s doubts.

“She doesn’t make you as happy as Harry did.”

_And there it is._

“Hmmm,” Niall hums, leaving Louis a little stunned.

“Wait, what?”

Niall hasn’t said no and now it has Lou thinking even harder.

“There’s no comparison to be made.”

“But you just said-”

“Just leave it yeah?” Niall pleads softly, eyes meeting Louis’s in an act of partial desperation.

His friend swallows and then nods, small smile on his lips before he steps out into the rain and demands that they buy a tea.

 

***

 

“Where are Barbara’s folks?” Greg asks him that evening as he feeds a two year old Theo his dinner.

Theo’s still so blonde only now he’s talking and is a right little manipulator.

Niall thinks he takes after Denise in that sense; she’s always been good at getting what she wants.

“They live in Hungary,” He states because Greg knows this.

“Yeah but I mean like, why aren’t they here for the wedding?”

Niall steals a carrot off of Theo’s plate and then answers him.

“They’re not exactly happy about her marrying me.”

Greg looks over to him and puffs out his cheeks.

“She’s basically picked you over them then eh?”

Niall gulps and nods once.

He feels ever so guilty when Greg puts it that way.

 

***

 

The five of them go out again because Niall’s not really having a proper stag do and thus Louis has insisted that they have a marathon of boozy nights in the run up to the big day.

Niall hadn’t minded at first, only now Harry’s tagging along to every single one it seems.

Zayn suggests that they try and do something a little more sophisticated than the pub and Niall remembers this little restaurant just outside of town.

It’s only when they arrive that he realises why it’s stuck in his mind. He’s been here before, with Harry, and that alone is enough to set off unease.

He doesn’t miss the confused look Harry shoots him as they get out of the taxi and Niall tries not to think about how Harry had kissed him until his mouth was sore on the way home that night.

“Do you think they do jaeger bombs?” Louis sniggers over to Niall as the hostess shows them to their table.

Niall rolls his eyes even though he’s pretty tempted to ask because he feels like getting hammered and Lou is only going to encourage it.

He winds up sitting next to Harry because Louis claims the seat at the head of the table and there’s no luck in prying Zayn and Liam apart.

“Nice joint,” the latter comments and Zayn nods in agreement, flashing white teeth at Niall in approval.

“I already know what I want,” Louis states, not even bothering to look at the menu that’s been placed in front of him.

They all wait in unison for his answer to follow.

“Bolognese.”

“How do you know that they do it?” Zayn remarks and Lou just snorts as if that’s all the answer he needs.

They end up ordering four bottles of red and Niall gets a beer too. Turns out they do serve spaghetti and Louis has never looked so smug.

Niall’s really in the mood more a bit of beef and he almost has to laugh when Zayn orders the salmon on a ‘bed’ of spinach.

Harry mulls over the menu for a while, something that’s always irritated the Irish lad, eventually choosing to have steak too.

 _Same as last time_ Niall thinks before quickly banishing those thoughts from his head.

Niall’s pint is already finished by the time it’s all set down on the table and he knows that that this is going to be a long night.

 

***

 

“Wish they hadn’t banned smoking in public buildings,” Zayn moans after he finishes chewing his last mouthful.

Liam doesn’t bother commenting but he does watch the way Niall downs more red wine that he can’t really stand the taste of.

“S’like a human right,” The Bradford lad continues and Liam’s going to have to watch Zayn too while he’s at it because in half an hour he’ll be slurring.

Niall can feel the warm buzz that comes with partial intoxication and he chuckles at how ridiculous Zayn sounds.

“Not if it kills babe,” Liam replies, his hand atop Zayn’s on the table in an act of comical consolation.

“Maybe you should just quit,” Harry deadpans and Niall’s never seen such a look of disgust on Zayn before.

That just has him laughing harder until he has to take a sip of his water to calm himself down. Liam’s torn between comforting Zayn and addressing Niall’s ever growing drunkenness.

“Can we shut up about cigs before I go barmy and have to smoke like three?” Louis snaps, all bark and no bite.

“I want one now,” Zayn whines, looking at Liam with lazy eyes because if Zayn’s going then Liam’s going to have to accompany him.

“Can’t you wait until dinner is over?” Liam tries to negotiate but Zayn just flutters his long eye lashes and Liam caves.

It’s adorable actually.

“Well then I’m coming too,” Louis informs them, already standing and removing his straights from his jacket pocket.

Niall’s brain doesn’t catch up to the fact that it’s just he and Harry alone at the table until he sees the movement of a tattooed hand to his left.

And even though he wants to run after the other lads, he’s not a smoker and he can’t leave without paying the bill.

Harry pours the leftover wine into his own glass and, yeah, maybe Niall’s eyes do trace the movement wherein Harry brings the glass up to his lips and swallows the dark liquid.

“Something the matter?”

“I wanted that,” Niall grumbles and he hopes Harry doesn’t think he’s talking about anything bar the wine.

Harry’s wide mouth splits into a grin.

“You look like you’ve had enough.”

And no, not quite, because Niall’s hoping not to remember this tomorrow.

He doesn’t give Harry the satisfaction of gracing him with a witty retort, just stares ahead in hopes of seeing any one of the lads.

He’s not here to pretend that he’s best pals with Harry, they’ve never been friends.

“Here,” Harry sighs after the prolonged quiet, pushing his nearly untouched wine towards Niall and the older boy looks up at him.

And he’s being petty when he says

“Thought I’d had enough.”

Harry looks frustrated but his eyes are shining with something Niall hasn’t seen in a long while.

“Just take the wine Niall.”

He does.

 

***

 

Zayn’s half slumped against him in the back of the cab, legs sprawled across Liam awkwardly and his head heavy on Niall’s arm.

Louis is sat up front, light of his mobile illuminating the dark space whilst Harry’s elbow is digging into Niall’s ribcage.

It’s a tight squeeze for them all but it’s okay because the trees are passing by in a blur that is caused by the amount of alcohol Niall’s consumed and he’s feeling numb enough to ignore the contact between him and the younger boy.

Maybe it because of the alcohol that he mentions it, that he mumbles

“Hurtin’ me.”

And Harry doesn’t hear him at first, continues looking out the window, so Niall places his hand on Harry’s forearm and pushes at it until it falls into Harry’s lap.

 “Your elbow is pointy,” Niall explains dumbly, his words slurred and Harry stares at his face for longer than he’s comfortable with.

Niall turns away from him, looks down at the head of black hair brushing up against his shoulder and sighs.

“Your boyfriend is a light weight,” He tells Liam who looks tired as hell.

The other boy just snorts and pats Zayn’s knee and Niall knows that’s Liam’s way of saying ‘I know’.

The remainder of the drive is silent, excluding the moment wherein Zayn requests that Liam kisses him and well, Liam does but only for a brief second.

Niall’s cheeks feel flush against the cool night air once he’s standing and then he’s reaching towards Louis and asking him for a cigarette because, fuck it, he’s smashed enough to want one.

Louis gives him one willingly, smirking at the scene before him and then walking into the house with Liam and Zayn in tow.

Niall’s too out of it to be cross with them for leaving him alone with Harry _again._

“You’re drunk Niall,” Harry states as he watches the shorter boy make slow work of his fag, weight shifting between his feet.

Niall’s only response is an exhale of air as he thinks about how dirty the taste in his mouth is.

“Don’t need babysittin’ Styles.”

“Yes you do,” Harry retorts, an eyebrow raised as he stands close to Niall.

“Suppose you’re just the man for the job eh?” His intoxicated mind forgetting to flick the ash and letting it fall of its own accord.

“Maybe,” He breathes, shivering at the cold temperature and looking up at the few lit windows.

“Want some?” Niall asks on a whim, offering the cigarette that he doesn’t really need to Harry just as he had his wine.

He shakes his head, hands shoved into the pockets of his jeans and Niall’s having a hard time not remembering the way Harry had fucked him when they’d gotten home that night years ago.

“Go inside will ya?”

Harry shoots him a glare that makes his blood boil.

“You shouldn’t drink so much.”

Niall’s a grown man, he can do as he pleases and Harry better well learn that.

 

***

 

Liam wakes him up early and drags him on a morning jog around some fields, insisting that the fresh air will cure his hangover.

“How’s Zayn?” Niall splutters out mid cough because if anyone was an invalid last night it was that boy.

Liam’s running alongside him at a pace that better suits Niall and he can’t help but grin as he says

“He practically cried when I left him, bubbling on about he’ll never talk to me again if I don’t get back into bed and cuddle him.”

Niall can’t really laugh because he’s focusing on his breathing but he imagines that scene playing out before him and knows it’ll have been hilarious.

Zayn comes across as right hard nut but he’s like a fucking cream egg, full of goo.

“What about Barbara?” And Niall feels confused as to why he thought Liam was going to ask about Harry.

“Dunno, slept on the couch again,” He admits, remembering that Harry had left him to his own devices in the living room.

“It’s messing with your head isn’t it?” Liam notes and Niall surges forward a little faster hoping that Liam doesn’t take that as a yes.

 

***

 

He makes sure to spend some time with his fiancée once their run is over, finding Barbara in the dining room, and helping her unpack the silverware that has only just arrived.

“You didn’t come to bed last night,” She comments, watching as he slices through cellophane and opens cardboard flaps.

“Didn’t want to disturb you, I was steamin’.”

She smiles at him.

“I get lonely without you.”

Niall’s smiles back at her but isn’t quite able to respond with an echoing sentence.

“I’ll be there tonight.”

He doesn’t promise.

 

***

 

Niall taps his fork continuously against the clothed table with impatience, wanting dinner to be through so that he can continue his current drinking streak.

“Stop that,” Harry orders from beside him, trying to snatch at the piece of cutlery and it makes Niall grunt in disapproval.

He jerks the fork away and taps even louder, wanting it to annoy the curly brunette, turning his head to the left and whispering over to Barbara

“You look beautiful.”

He notices the shudder of her skin and he almost frowns because it doesn’t give him the same rush that irritating Harry does.

Barbara doesn’t respond to him, continuing her conversation with Maura and it makes Niall grip the silverware because why has his mother decided that seating him next to Harry is a good idea?

His anger is only heightened by the firm grasp of Harry’s large hand on his thigh, he considers stabbing it but instead grits out

“Don’t touch me.”

Harry meets his gaze with a tight smile to avoid suspicions of hostility.

“I’ll let go when you shut the fuck up.”

The Irish man licks across his bottom lip before he calmly puts the fork down, not wanting Harry to be in contact with him any longer because it fucks with his head.

His thigh is released and then he’s focusing on the sensation he feels running through his muscle.

“May we be excused for a moment?” Niall politely asks the room.

Harry looks up at him upon the realisation that the ‘we’ Niall is referring to includes the tall brunette.

Liam is giving him a confused look but Maura is nodding her head and Barbara just pats his forearm as he stands to leave.

Niall doesn’t gesture for Harry to follow after him as he departs the dining area.

“Wait,” Harry snaps at him once they’re out of earshot but Niall just tells him ‘Not here’ and stalks into the kitchen.

Harry turns to face him, back to the door.

“Well?” He asks impatiently and Niall stutters momentarily.

Harry’s eyes flicker with amusement as Niall scratches at the hairs on the nape of his neck.

“Spit it out,” The taller boy smirks and _God_ Niall knows he shouldn’t but he has to.

He’s listening as Harry’s body comes into contact with the solid wood behind him and registering the fact that he’s pushing Harry up against it, knees at an angle so that Niall can glare into his eyes.

“Niall?” Harry whispers and a rush of heat starts in Niall’s chest, spreading through his limbs.

His lips twitch slightly and he can see Harry’s shoulders rising as he takes in quicker breaths.

“Go home,” Niall exasperates. _You can’t be here, four days and I’m going crazy._

Harry shakes his head defiantly like he knows that this isn’t really what Niall had wanted to say.

His feet shuffle forward and he stills when he feels large hands pressing into his lower back.

“I’m not here to cause any trouble Niall,” Harry tells him again, but this already _is_ trouble.

Niall swallows dryly, and then nods.

“Yeah,” He agrees and then echoes the word.

His vision darkens as Harry’s mouth presses onto his cheek, so soft and warm that it has his head lolling.

“Civil?” Harry questions timidly after a fleeting moment of silence.

Niall wants to curse at him for kissing his skin but Harry’s right; he can’t quite deal with this anger anymore.

He nods again, embarrassment flooding his system as he stumbles back.

They go back to the dining room and Niall eats to the point wherein he feels like he’s swallowed a never ending cocktail of nausea and self-regret.

 

***

 

This time they hit a bar uptown, and Niall has hopes it’ll be easier now that he and Harry are on ‘better’ terms.

He thinks about what Barbara had expressed earlier and rubs at his eyes; looks over at Harry dressed in his leather trousers and sighs.

He’s never been friendly with Harry like Liam or Lou and it’s possibly even weirder now that he’s not constantly expressing his hatred towards him.

Barbara misses him and he knows that if he downs the shot in his hand he’ll be a bastard for a third night in a row.

He takes in the loud music, the sight of his three best mates in front of him and Harry’s bright eyes.

Bastard it is.

 

***

 

None of them dare dance, it’s not really their thing and Niall’s doesn’t even bother watching the crowd that has gathered together moving to the raunchy beat.

Instead he’s laughing as Louis slams down jaeger bombs with an exasperate ‘Finally’.

He notices that Harry’s readily involved today, consuming his before anyone else has the chance to and licking the left over residue from his lips.

Louis erupts into a cheer and Niall thinks that Harry’s relaxing now because he’s got the confidence that Niall isn’t going to be at his throat.

“You can have mine if you want,” Zayn tells the tall boy, and Liam smirks knowingly, Zayn still feeling rough from the night before.

Harry’s teeth sink into his lower lip and Louis hands it over to him and states

“This is going to be so much fun.”

 

***

 

Liam and Zayn head home only two hours into it. Once they’ve gone Louis announces

“Gonna be shagging till dawn.”

Niall rolls his eyes at him, but he can’t deny that it’s not true. He feels slightly nervous now that it’s just the three of them. Louis is an unruly drunk.

“When’s the last time you got any action Harold?” Louis requests, and Niall doesn’t know if he really wants to hear this.

Harry just crunches on some ice and shrugs not willing to divulge any information.

Lou snorts “Never had any problem kissing and tellin’ when it was you and Nialler.”

“Louis,” Niall scolds, his skin flushing red but Harry is just staring at the Irish boy with amusement in his features.

Niall realises that maybe Louis has already crossed the line from tipsy to plastered and chews at his cheek momentarily.

“Maybe we should take ya back eh Lou?”

“Nonsense,” He snaps, standing quickly and then waving his pack of cigarettes in Niall’s face.

They watch him go before Harry shuffles over to his side and suggests that one of them go after him.

Niall’s not far from the line himself and he shakes his head, not really wanting to have to deal with a sassy Lou.

“He’ll be fine.”

Harry’s looking at him like ‘whatever you say’ and Niall realises a little too late that he’s staring at the dimple denting Harry’s cheek.

“What?” The green eyed boy asks and Niall chooses not to turn away because this is completely normal and Harry is quite drunk.

“Nothin’ just seems like we always end up alone together,” He mutters, drinking more of his pint and then wiping his hands on his jeans.

Harry tilts his head to the side

“Does that bother you?”

There’s something about the way he says it that has Niall stiffening slightly, feeling scrutinised beneath his gaze.

He swallows before shaking his head.

“Use your words Niall,” Harry patronises and in a moment of complete insanity he harshly pinches Harry’s shoulder.

Niall’s never seen a smile as beautiful as Harry’s and he has to dig his nails into his palm to stop from thinking about him like that, he can’t let Harry infatuate him anymore.

“We should play a game of golf,” Harry tells him after the onslaught of silence.

Niall squints at him, because they haven’t done that in a long while and he’s not sure if he wants to.

“When?”

“Tomorrow,” Harry answers, as if it’s ingenious and Niall gets the feeling that it’s more of a demand than an open invitation.

He dwells on it.

“Fine,” He agrees reluctantly, because it’s the most civil sounding thing he can think of.

Harry smiles at him, knee knocking against Niall’s and the older boy looks down to where they’ve made contact, his ripped jeans exposing the joint that’s undergone surgery.

Thoughts of Harry kissing his cheek earlier are rushing back and he shifts away from him slightly.

Harry notices.

 

***

 

Louis seems to have sobered up when he returns, he reeks of cigarette smoke and the glint in his eyes is gone.

Niall sees him fiddling with his phone in his hands and he’s pretty sure the name ‘Eleanor’ flashing across his screen explains it all.

 

***

 

The wind assaults his hair and it makes Niall wish he had worn a cap. He’s murked by the fact that Harry’s been smart enough to put one on. In fact, he’s murked because he’s agreed to golfing and he’s out of touch.

“I’m winning,” Harry states, because this never happens. Not ever.

Niall huffs out a puff of warm air into his cupped hands, club in-between his bent knees. It’s shit cold for mid-October morning.

“It’s just a game like,” He mutters grimly, seemingly not sharing Harry’s excitement, and standing to his proper height.

Harry snorts ungracefully and moves past him to the cart. Niall licks over his drying lips and scowls. He’s had enough; he wants to get back to his overbearing mother and troublesome friends.

That’s exactly what he tells Harry once he’s sat beside him, skin of his mouth feeling raw in the breeze. If Harry’s offended, well, Niall doesn’t really care.

 

***

Being back indoors brings feeling back to his fingers and a pink tint to Harry’s cheeks, and even though Niall’s rudely cut their outing short, Harry still says

“Thanks for letting us do that, it was nice.”

Niall stares at his face blankly, distracted by the length of his eyelashes before Harry’s heading up the stairs.

And that’s the problem, Niall thinks; he doesn’t want to be nice for Harry, nor vice versa because it’s too good to lose.

His back aches as he walks into the kitchen and he rolls his shoulders in an attempt to relieve some of the tension. Zayn and Liam are both seated at the table and Niall tuts when he sees that Zayn’s got a lit fag hanging from his lips.

“My ma will kill ya if she gets a whiff,” He warns half-heartedly, filling a tall glass with water and drinking it down to the halfway point.

“Relax, she’s having a rest, got a raging headache so Li offered to wash up for her.”

Niall listens to Zayn talk as a cloud of smoke travels towards him and out the open window. He looks down at the sink he’s leaning against and notes that it’s empty.

“Domestic goddess eh?” Niall jibes, taking up a chair opposite them.

“Something like that,” Liam blushes as Zayn sends him a cheeky wink and Niall rolls his eyes.

“Where’s…” Zayn imitates taking a putt.

“Harold?” Niall deadpans and Zayn flips him off for stating the obvious.

“Disappeared,” Niall yawns, only half lying “As per usual.”

Liam gives him a pointed look which then turns to understanding “I know it’s tough mate,” but Niall interrupts him “No, no, no,” He snaps “I don’t want to talk about this anymore.”

Zayn mutters a ‘brat’ under his breath but Niall lets it slide, because yeah, maybe Zayn’s right.

 

***

 

Niall showers to get his blood circulating again and mutters a string of curses as the water come too hot, burning his skin. He scrubs at white flesh until it’s sore, preferring this feeling to one of sadness.

He’s annoyed at how his friends seem to be on Harry’s side, like they find what he did acceptable even if Niall’s moved past the hostility. And he’s annoyed at himself as he brings the water to a stop, stepping onto grey tiles and letting dampness pool beneath his feet.

He’s forgotten a towel, so has to shake out his hair like a wet dog and exits into the bedroom. The dip in temperature is causing goose bumps to break out across his body like wildfire and he trips over himself when he sees Harry perched on his bed.

He remembers that he’s bollock naked but his hands don’t go to cover his cock, he’d used to be insecure about his lithe build, the paleness of his skin, scrawny legs.

It was Harry who had helped him move past that, told him he was all kinds of attractive.

And it’s Harry who’s blatantly staring at him now, like he’s fucking paid for some sort of private show; eyes travelling the length of Niall’s body, lingering on his thighs.

His blue eyes narrow as he pulls on a pair of dirty sweats to maintain whatever dignity he might still have.

“You just love turning up uninvited, don’t you?”

_Civil Niall._

Harry’s ready with his defence.

“First of all, Louis invited me and secondly that’s what I wanted to talk to you about.”

“Not now Harry,” Niall tells him calmly, even though he really wants to throw a few choice words in there.

“I want your permission,” Harry continues anyhow, eyes trained on Niall’s bare torso.

He’s feeling self-conscious because Harry’s just seen _all_ of him again and it makes his blood boil for various reasons.

“What?” Niall asks, getting it but not quite wanting to.

“Invite me, so I don’t feel like I’m gate crashing.”

 _You are,_ Niall thinks begrudgingly, but if it means that Harry will bugger off for a while

“Fine, yeah I properly want you there,” He deadpans, hands ushering Harry from the bed.

Harry knows it’s all lies but his green eyes light up like Niall’s just promised him the moon anyway.

 

***

 

_Meeting Harry hadn’t been anything spectacular._

_Niall had been sat in the campus library trying to do some research the old fashioned way when a boy with long legs clad in ridiculously tight jeans had taken up the chair opposite him._

_The, at the time, blonde haired boy, didn’t think much of it, because the place was pretty full and, well, he didn’t want to kick up a fuss over a chair._

_He’d probably gotten in about five more minutes of studying before he could feel a boot kick at his shin. His blue eyes had snapped up but the brunette in front of him looked enthralled with his literature book._

_He had passed it off as accidental until it was repeated soon after, the boy, who had magnificently curly hair, still didn’t say anything but Niall could see the smirk tugging at his lips._

_He’d realised then that it was some sort of game and if it hadn’t been for the attractiveness of this stranger he wouldn’t have played along._

_The next time curly, as Niall had nicknamed him by this point, had made to nudge his leg again Niall had clamped his ankles around his slim calf._

_It was then at which the boy had looked up at his face and broke out into a grin, Niall taking in the dimples that brandished his creamy skin._

_“Can I help you?” He had asked cheekily, eyebrows raised as Niall refused to release his leg._

_“Dunno mate, you were the one kickin’ me,” Niall had told him with an unimpressed look that didn’t deter the taller boy one bit._

_“You got me there,” curly mused and then had flipped his book shut loudly, earning a couple of glares from other students actually using the environment for its proper use and not to flirt with fit blondes._

_Niall had continued to stare at him, liking the shade of green his eyes were and thinking it was a good thing he’d just started coming to terms with the fact that he was into blokes as well._

_“Pub?” His new acquaintance asked hopefully and Niall’s legs had immediately gone lax._

_“You’re buying.”_

_“Actually, I’m Harry.”_

_Niall had snorted and gathered up his things, shoving his books messily into his bag._

_“That’s great, name’s Niall and I like pints, hurry up would ya?”_

_“God you’re eager,” Harry chuckled but stood anyway and had taken in Niall’s height._

_“Must be the company,” he had teased with a thick accent and it was safe to say that it had all been a fuck fest from there on out._

 

***

 

“You’ve been acting out of character lately,” His ma tells him as he helps her with the shopping she’s just ordered in.

He scratches at his smooth chin

“Just nervous about the wedding.”

She gives him a soft smile, a rare one, and then she pats his shoulder.

“Your father would be proud of you.”

Niall hadn’t been expecting that and he concludes that it’s only for that reason the words cut through him to such an extent.

 

***

 

He’s angry again, full of irritation and he needs someone to take it out on.

Niall doesn’t mean to be so rude when he tells Zayn that he’s a cunt for calling him a brat earlier.

His friend just snorts.

“What the fuck’s up with you now?”

Silence and then

“I don’t know if this is what I want,” He confesses.

Zayn, who’s been sat at the head of the bed moves to sit beside him, knowing it’s all in referral to the upcoming wedding.

“Oh Ni,” He soothes, tone the total opposite of what it was two seconds ago.

“I thought I was over it, I’m not over it,” He mumbles, his feelings towards Harry manifesting themselves as a tepid combination of hatred and lust.

“S’not something you can just forget about,” The darker haired boy reasons but Niall knows that Zayn isn’t stupid and he’s not just talking about Harry leaving.

“He shouldn’t have come,” Niall snaps but then his strength weans and he leans into Zayn’s side.

“Maybe he didn’t know how much of an affect it would have on you.”

This is Harry, of course he knew.

 

***

 

He’s over the outburst, he’s over everything. He’s getting married and Harry is irrelevant to that.

He kisses Barbara for a good few minutes, because he won’t be seeing her at all tomorrow, before heading down the stairs and meeting the lads in the lounge.

“Where to?” Liam asks as Niall steps into sight and the Irish lad shakes his head.

“Huh?” Louis’s face is one of pure disbelief.

“Figured we could get shit faced in Bobby’s old campervan, ma never got round to slinging it and, well, it’s in mint condition.”

He also considers it some sort of odd tribute because he misses his dad like hell.

Niall reveals two bottles of whisky from behind his back.

Louis nods frantically, and Liam flashes him a sympathetic smile because Niall had been so broken after his death.

He feels guilty that he hasn’t yet been to visit the grave whilst back home.

 _Tomorrow_ he thinks, he’ll definitely go and it’ll help him breathe a little easier.

“You coming?” Harry calls to him from the doorway, the other lads already away.

Niall swallows down the lump in his throat and nods his head, walking a safe distance from the tall brunette out into the darkness of the back garden, where in the far distance the campervan sits.

He can already see Louis prying the door open and Zayn pinching Liam’s bum playfully.

Harry doesn’t speak a word to him and Niall wonders if he’s revoked his offer, either way he tells himself that he’s not all that bothered.

Louis is laid out on one of the sofas and Zayn shoos him so that there’s space for he and Liam to sit.

Niall scoots up right to the end of the other and places the whisky besides him to avoid any close contact with Harry.

If it had been anyone else who’d carried out the action, Niall would have rolled his eyes at the pettiness.

“Pass us one then,” Lou orders and Niall throws a bottle over to him lightly so that he’ll definitely catch it.

He opens the second one for himself and takes a big swig, holding it out to Harry because it looks as if they’ll be sharing.

Liam wrinkles his nose as he sniffs at the mouth of the bottle and shakes his head.

“Maybe later.”

Louis snorts because it’s hardly likely there’ll be any left later.

The small space they’re in is semi warm, and Niall’s glad he’s got his jacket on this time.

“We should play truth or dare,” The oldest of them suggests and Liam turns to him in distaste.

“We’re not fifteen anymore Tommo,” And Louis blows a raspberry.

“Fine, no dares, just truths,” he waggles his eyebrows suggestively and Niall is seriously reconsidering their friendship right about now.

Zayn sighs in acceptance and the lingering silence indicates that they’re all in agreement because sometimes they have to let Louis have the little victories.

“Give me some of that then,” Liam caves, pulling the whisky from Zayn and drinking some.

“That reminds me,” Zayn smirks, revealing a bag of what Niall immediately recognises as marijuana and showing it off.

“No,” Niall states, it’ll stink the place out.

“Oh come on,” The dark eyed boy begs.

Niall shoots Liam a look as if to say ‘control your man’ but Liam is looking too amused to reason with.

“You’re up for it, aren’t ya Harry?” Louis pushes and Harry nods briefly.

“For old times’ sake,” Zayn reasons and Niall’s never been one to give into peer pressure but if it’s just the once.

“Fine, fine.”

Niall watches on with hesitation and Zayn manages to create five small blunts with what he’s got and hands them all each one.

“Please tell me this isn’t pure,” Niall groans and Zayn’s wicked smile is all the answer he needs.

“Shh,” Zayn hushes and lights his up the dense aroma filling Niall’s nostrils.

He’s never been too keen on weed but this week seems to be full of exceptions.

Harry’s long legs are stretched out before him and Niall studies the black boots as he waits for the lighter to reach him.

“Question time,” Lou says with a grin that Niall can vaguely see behind the cloud of smoke being created in front of him.

The fumes alone would be enough to set him off.

“Go on then,” Niall instructs, finally inhaling and tossing the lighter blindly to Harry.

Louis looks to be mulling over it in his mind.

“Do you think my arse looks big in these jeans?” And Niall doesn’t thinks he’s heard the five of them laugh in unison like that before.

 

***

 

He’s thoroughly high by the time the ‘game’ finally ends and he’s got his head lolling against Harry’s shoulder.

He doesn’t quite know when they’ve breached each other’s personal space but he’s so doped up that he can’t quite give a fuck.

“That was some good shit,” Zayn breathes, applauding himself.

Harry’s left arm flings itself across Niall’s torso in search of the left over whisky and the Irish lad jumps at the movement, pushing his head from Harry but unable to move anything else.

“Thought I made a good pillow,” He mutters quietly and Niall opens his eyes enough to see that Louis has passed out.

“Stop biting me babe,” Liam grumbles at Zayn who’s got his face pressed into Liam’s neck and Niall looks away, hazy eyes landing on Harry’s which seem to be watching him closely.

And if this had been university then Niall would be taking Harry somewhere private so that he could suck on his skin hard and get him off using only his mouth.

But this isn’t and they’re not that and Niall hates himself for the sexual frustration he’s starting to feel around the taller boy.

“M’ gettin the munchies,” and holy hell his accent is thicker with all this grass they’ve been doing.

Harry blinks down at him lazily and Niall yawns in his face.

Looking at curly hair is making him annoyed because he’s still so fucking furious about everything, mostly the fact that he’s in two minds.

He’s distracted by Zayn getting up and pulling Liam out of the room.

“Charming,” He sarks and then thinks about what to do with Louis.

He decides that he’ll not move him, just stands and covers Lou in his jacket before regarding Harry who’s still happily seated.

“You coming?"

**

Niall eats his chicken sandwich slowly, savouring each bite and not caring that Harry’s watching him with an odd look.

They’re sat in Harry’s room because they don’t want Maura to catch them high as kites.

Harry’s staying in probably the nicest guest room and it just reminds him again of how fond his ma is of Harry even after all these years.

He thinks deep down that the feeling is mutual but right now it’s pretty tainted with confusion.

“That looks really good,” Harry hums, eyeing the sliced bread.

Niall already knows what he’s about to ask.

“Fuck off, ya can’t have any.”

Harry licks over his top lip and then smirks.

“Of course, it’s not like I could forget the no sharing policy you enforce.”

Niall wants to hit him for looking so smug. He takes another bite instead and swallows greedily.

Feels a lot like his ‘stag’ week is turning into a ‘Niall and Harry’ week and he’s off about that.

“We’re not mates.”

Harry’s face is looking less amused now, his red eyes narrowing a little.

“Never said we were.”

“Good,” Niall replies and then finishes off the food before him.

“You should probably bugger off then, only my ‘bestest’ pals are allowed in here,” Harry deadpans, leaning back against his palms.

And Niall should of known he’d react like that.

He wants to sort of correct himself but he’s staring a little too hard at Harry’s torso and thinking about how, well, sexy he looks right now.

“S’my house,” Niall mumbles, eyes drifting upwards to Harry’s face.

He’s got an eyebrow cocked and Niall thanks the high heavens that his cheeks are already pink because he blushes.

They watch each other for a brief minute until Niall coughs out, remembering the fact that Harry’s seen him naked today.

Niall wants it to be more awkward than it is.

“You should let me take your picture.”

Niall’s brow creases at that.

“A sort of ‘before’ shot if you would,” Harry explains and then gets to his feet deftly.

He doesn’t have time to refuse because the taller boy already has his camera out and is turning it on.

“It’s rather convenient that you have that with you,” Niall implies.

Niall can hear the clicking above him and looks up.

“I am a _photographer_ Niall.”

Niall snorts at the retort.

“Stretch your legs out,” Harry instructs and Niall doesn’t obey until Harry kicks lightly at his shin.

“Also, you could try smiling.”

“Surely you’ve got enough Styles.”

“No.”

Niall runs a hand through his hair and then he thinks about the day he had met Barbara and his smile doesn’t feel as genuine as it should.

“Niall,” Harry tuts and the Irish lad glares up at him.

He doesn’t want to but there’s really no hope from what Niall lets enter his mind next.

The memory of teaching Harry how to play a few chords on the guitar and after he’d finally caught on, repeatedly asking Niall if he was proud of him, demeanour so different from his usual confident self.

‘Of course’ Niall had said and Harry had kissed him for hours afterwards.

“That’s it,” present Harry praises and Niall thinks he can see the hot flames of hell waving up at him.

**

He’s got his cheek pressed against carpeted flooring as his eyes blink open and the room around him is dark.

He’s aware of the fact that there is a body lying next to him, a few inches from his face and he realises that he’d must of passed out with Harry alongside him.

He rolls onto the flat of his back, flexing his toes and yawning hoarsely.

Harry shifts too, the floorboards beneath creaking with the movement, and Niall’s looks over at the tall brunette still sleeping.

Niall thinks he could just get up and leave now and Harry would be none the wiser.

He doesn’t want to though, partly because he’s so tired but also because Harry’s breathing is hypnotic to listen to, like it’s trying to lull Niall into a trap.

Harry lets out a little cough that disrupts the pattern and Niall forces himself onto his elbows so that he won’t be victim to it again.

He’s come down from his high now, the carpet digging uncomfortably into his skin from where he’s putting pressure on it.

“Niall?”

It catches him off guard, not realising Harry’s awoken himself also.

“What?” And he doesn’t mean for it to be so snappy, but he’s been taken by surprise.

Harry remains silent, but Niall notices that he’s sitting upright and pushing his hair back from his eyes.

He remembers that they’ve let Louis in the campervan, and then he’s telling Harry that.

“So?” The Cheshire lad grumbles, hand still in his hair.

“Gotta check he’s still breathin’,” Niall explains.

Harry gets to his feet before Niall has the chance to, brushing off his jeans and looking down at him in the greyness.

Niall doesn’t move for all of five minutes, his limbs still weak and then he’s up and checking the time on his phone, it’s nearly three in the morning.

Harry seems far more distant now that he’s sober, looks like he’s irked by something and Niall contemplates that it could be because he’s tired.

“Stay here if ya want,” Niall mumbles, kind of wanting to get out of Harry’s proximity for a while.

Harry ignores him, walking ahead before stopping at the door.

Niall can’t really meet his steady gaze in this lighting but there’s suddenly a tension radiating between them and he’s biting at his lip in discomfort.

Harry looks as if he’s about to speak but then decides against it, reaching behind himself for the doorknob.

Niall tries not to think about what might have been said.

**

“Lou?” Niall whispers as he prods at the older boy’s shoulder.

He doesn’t stir at all, even as he tries again, and so Harry nudges Niall over and pats Louis’s cheek rather roughly.

He makes a grumbling noise and then his blue eyes are looking around at his surroundings.

“Had the weirdest dream,” He blurts out, and Niall can tell that Louis is still out of it.

“Yeah?” Niall smirks, helping him into a sitting position.

“Like a bad trip,” Louis mumbles.

“It was weed mate, not fucking acid,” Niall deadpans as he takes a seat next to his friend.

Harry’s standing over the two of them and Lou is sneezing loudly.                 

“Fancy a proper kip?” His accent is thick with a lack of sleep and he just wants to make sure Louis is sorted because he’s one of his best mates after all.

“Have you two been together this whole time?” Louis asks instead, looking up at Harry innocently.

Niall doesn’t like the way it’s phrased one bit.

“Nah,” Niall lies quickly “Bumped into each other in the corridor.”

He doesn’t quite know why he does it, ignores the questioning look Harry is directing at him, because surely you only lie about things that you know are wrong?

He tells himself it’ll save Louis insinuating things.

“Right,” Louis snorts and then he’s standing, wobbling slightly on his feet.

Niall gulps agitatedly and begins the process of getting Lou to bed.

**

It’s more of a team effort as it turns out, because despite being able to string a sentence together Louis finds it very difficult getting his feet to function properly.

They sort of drag him like a rag doll, trying to keep quiet as they haul him up the stairs and then by the time they've gotten him down on the mattress he’s already snoring again.

Niall pulls his trainers off and thinks about how his dad had used to do it for him when he’d get home late from footy practice and fall asleep on the sofa.

“What was that earlier?” Harry asks as Niall steps away from the bed.

Niall had hoped he’d have let the white lie slip, but evidently not.

“What was what?” Niall questions dumbly, reaching for the door handle and knowing that Harry will most likely follow him into the hallway.

“Don’t be stupid,” Harry chastises and Niall suddenly feels like he’s under an intense scrutiny.

“It was lie, _obviously_ ,” He defends, not liking the quiet tone Harry’s taken.

Harry just nods his curl covered head lightly and sighs.

“Sorry, it’s just; I thought we were making progress.”

Niall’s a little less riled now, his head is swimming with all these thoughts that are Harry related and it’s hard.

“I just didn’t want Lou asking me a billion questions,” he explains, because Harry’s right, civil is working.

Harry smiles at him with tired eyes.

Niall’s so close to returning it but the sexual tension wavering is enough to make him regain his posture and shake his head subtly.

“Goodnight Harry.”

“Yeah,” He mutters, green eyes focusing on Niall’s fair chest hair peeking through the top of his shirt “Sweet dreams.”

**

“So how do you plan on spending your last day of freedom?” Liam asks as he and Niall sit in the conservatory.

“Ask Lou, he’s the _wedding planner_ ,” He remarks sarcastically and Liam snorts.

“Don’t let him hear you call him that.”

Niall smiles before feigning distaste.

“You and Zayn were right jammy bastards last night.”

Niall’s surprised to find that his friend doesn’t even blush.

“Yeah well, don’t cry about it.”

And Niall chuckles at that because Liam’s only ever this cocky when he’s gotten some good.

**

This time it isn’t Harry who’s in his room when he’s done in the shower. In fact, it’s empty until he’s got some kit on and Zayn’s coming in.

“Hey Ni,” The tanned man smiles, tobacco bag shoved into his jean pockets and Niall really thinks Zayn should chill with all the smoking.

Niall flashes his teeth in response, fingers running through his wet hair as Zayn shuffles over to the window and pushes it open.

“Fancied having a smoke, want one?”

Niall’s not really a smoker, but his muscles feel strained, and his shoulders are stiff.

“Sure mate.”

Zayn’s rolling niftily, years of practice, and then handing it over to Niall.

“How you feelin’?”

Niall clicks his neck and takes the lighter that’s running low on fluid.

“Tired I guess,” and Zayn nods as he leans his torso over the window’s edge.

There’s a silence before he gets to it.

“I meant, ya know? About Harry...”

Niall inhales a little too sharply and burns the back of his throat.

“Not much to feel Zayn, he’s here now and I’m being polite,” he lies.

Zayn chooses to keep his opinions to himself, for all of five seconds.

“You’re still into him.”

“Zayn,” Niall warns; he doesn’t need another lecture.

“Fuck, sorry Nialler,” The older boy catches himself.

“I’m with Barbara.”

Zayn is nodding “I know man, I know.”

Niall looks at what’s left of his rollup, couple more puffs and it should be done.

“What did you end up doing last night?” He hears Zayn’s voice again.

Niall snorts “You mean after you and me best man scarpered off to have sex?”

Zayn smiles coyly at him “Sounds about right.”

Niall shakes his head in mock distaste “Not a lot, Lou was conked out and it was left for me and Harold to take him bed.”

“Sounds like a right laugh.”

Niall hums in agreement, letting the filter fall to the green below.

“Ni?”

“Yeah?” 

Zayn looks perplexed, like he’s thinking things over real hard.

“There’s something I need your help with.”

Niall worries momentarily that Zayn’s gotten himself into some serious shit.

“You getting married, it’s got me thinking, made me realise even, that I wanna ask Li, like, I feel ready.”

He’s not expecting that at all, he’s so used to the two of them just being together that he hasn’t quite seen this coming.

“Shit,” Niall murmurs and then “That’s probably the best thing you’ve said to me in a long while.

Zayn looks at him with hazel eyes, crinkled because he’s smiling so big and Niall thinks that Liam deserves this too.

“I just needed to tell someone.”

He thinks of Zayn telling Louis and Lou dropping a billion unsubtle hints in front of Payno.

Zayn’s made the right choice.

**

Maura insists that the five of them go out for lunch, shoos them in fact, and Niall knows it’s because there’s only so much testosterone she can deal with at one time.

Niall feels like he’s doing the wrong thing though, opting for this over going to visit Bobby’s grave.

He reminds himself that he’ll still have time after the wedding, can squeeze his old man in before they’re all off again.

“Oi Horan,” Louis tugs at his arm to capture his attention, and the ex blonde looks up at where they’re going to be eating.

He’s not particularly hungry, which is a rarity and he’s pretty sure it’s got to do with the fact that he’s shittin’ himself about tomorrow.

“Huh?”

Louis wrinkles up his nose, but it’s obviously not that important because he doesn’t bother repeating it.

Harry’s walking ahead of him, first time Niall’s seen him all day and he’s staring at lean legs again because they’re really something.

He sits in between Louis and Harry, looking directly at Liam who’s visibly got his hand on Zayn’s leg underneath the table.

The waitress is coming up behind them almost as soon as they’re all seated, she doesn’t look particularly happy to see them.

Niall does a quick scan and it’s pretty busy so he doesn’t really blame her.

“I’m short of a menu,” She informs them flatly, looking directly at Niall and he feels a little uncomfortable beneath her glare.

“That’s not a problem,” Liam responds politely “We’re capable of sharing.”

“Good,” She mumbles, handing the pile to Liam directly to dispense and Niall doesn’t miss Louis smirking beside him.

The waitress takes their order regarding what they’d like to drink and then before she turns away she winks directly at Niall.

He averts his gaze because he doesn’t want her to think that he’s interested, because that’s what she’s hinting at right?

“There goes that Irish charm,” Louis snorts but Niall’s not really focusing on his voice.

“She’s probably had a shit day,” Zayn defends because he’d been a waiter once during Uni and he’d had to deal with all sorts of shit.

Niall can see Harry’s left leg jolting out of the corner of his eye, up and down fast so that his torso shakes a little.

He’s obviously not feeling overly stimulated with the topic of conversation and Niall’s not all that surprised.

It’s not like Niall isn’t feeling frustrated either, because he is, like he wants to grab his hair by its ends and yank.

He opts for digging his nails into the material of his jeans, hard enough that his knuckles turn white.

He’s not the only one doing it though; he can see Harry’s got a firm hand on his own leg to put a halt to its continuous tapping.

The waitress doesn’t come back with their drinks for another five minutes, and Niall’s really desperate for the water he ordered.

“Ta,” He mumbles when she puts it down in front of him, immediately taking the cold glass in his hand and sipping greedily.

She takes their orders and he goes with a baked potato, nothing gourmet.

He doesn’t bother looking at the woman again, instead he’s peaking over at Harry, watching as he drinks the ginseng tea he’s ordered.

Harry’s always been about body and mind, lights up fucking candles when he has bubble baths.

“Been thinkin’,” Niall starts only to be interrupted by Louis

“Uh-Oh.”

Niall flashes him an unimpressed glare before continuing.

“The civil war ended in 1865 right, but like, if you had to choose, between the north and the south, who would ya pick, because I’ve been mullin’ it over and I can’t feckin’ decide.”

“What are you on about?” Louis snorts.

Niall’s rambling now, head sore and he’s trying to think about anything other than the fact that he’s full of anxiety about getting married.

“Shite, just overthinkin’,” He attempts to distract.

“You alright mate?” Liam checks and Niall just shrugs, he doesn’t really know.

He can see Harry realigning his cutlery, pointless, just like Niall’s last observation.

“Retard,” Louis jibes but his grin let’s Niall know it’s all light.

“Yeah,” He sighs dully “Probably best not to be thinking bout the past.”

“History’s important,” Harry adlibs, first thing he’s said since he’s sat down.

All of the other lads pretend not to recognise that it’s a taunt in Niall’s direction.

He can feel his cheeks flushing, his head’s been to wrapped up in what’s been and gone lately.

He finishes the rest of his water, cooler now because of the melting ice, remembers Harry telling him that he thought things were smooth between them and focuses on that to avoid any snide remark.

“You sure you don’t want a pint?” Louis grins and it’s infectious so Niall just breathes easy and gives him one back.

**

Niall naps when they get back, swears he’ll only sleep for a half hour but ends up going down for two.

He scrolls through his messages for a little while, replying to one of his cousins and reading a rude joke that Greg’s sent him an hour ago.

He’s got jogger shorts on and a hoodie, feet padding down the wide staircase and into the kitchen because, even though he’s eaten recently, he’s still hungry.

It’s empty and he makes himself two bacon sarnies, opening the windows so that the smell doesn’t linger in the house.

He can hear the TV playing in the lounge, figures some of the lads must be watching it to relax.

“Shove over,” He grumbles as he walks over to the couch, can see that it’s Louis and Harry who are on it.

Louis shuffles to his left, lets Niall slip into the space between himself and the other brunette.

“What is this shite?” He asks looking up at the screen, person in a lab coat analysing a glass slide under a microscope.

“Killer Forensics,” Louis tells him “Harry picked it.”

He’s not surprised; Harry’s always been into this crime stuff.

“This is the _shite_ that helps lock up serial killers and rapists,” the younger boy defends, eyes not wavering from the programme.

“Alright, alright,” Niall snorts and takes a nibble at what’s left of his snack.

“Let me have a bite,” Harry murmurs beside him, knees spreading further apart and head turning towards Niall.

He contemplates it, thinks about how he doesn’t share food but then holds the bread up to Harry’s mouth and watches as he takes a bite.

There’s something calming about it, easy just do as Harry wants and leave it be.

“My turn,” Louis interrupts loudly and Niall can see him batting his eyelashes mockingly.

“Eff off,” The Irish lad snaps and then crams the rest into his own mouth.

Harry looks slightly smug beside him but Niall doesn’t care, he’s always going to treat Harry a little differently, just can’t help it.

“They got a suspect yet?” He asks.

“The Granddaddy,” Louis larks, and Niall rolls his eyes.                    

“The uncle,” Harry tells him seriously, so informative because he’s really fucking into it.

He looks at the time on his phone, it’s nearly five and he knows that Louis is going to want to do something retarded tonight.

He’s decided that he’s not going to get overly drunk because he doesn’t think he’ll be able to deal with a hangover tomorrow.

“Think I’ll be able to pull a fitty at the reception?” Louis asks him languidly, and Niall frowns a bit because it’s pretty obvious he won’t be doing anything of the sort.

Louis still isn’t over El but Niall will pretend for the sake of a mate.

“Just don’t fuck any of my cousins and you’ll be fine,” He warns.

Harry hasn’t even told them to shut up, he’s got this habit, if Niall remembers right, wherein he totally zones out and blocks out all background noise around him.

It’s kind of annoying really.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” the younger man finally mutters and Louis’s eyebrows quirk.

“What is it Harold?”

Niall finds it funny how they’ve all already fallen back into their nicknames. It’s a bit bothersome.

“He raped her post mortem,” Harry explains before looking over at them “Aren’t you guys watching?”

“Nah, Niall here was telling me a secret, very private.”

Niall smirks because Louis doesn’t half come up with some crap sometimes.

Harry’s not bothered by it at all, twisting the ring on his index finger as he tunes in to listen to narrator explain how they finally cracked the case.

 

***

 

Niall tries not to groan when they pull up outside of the Joker’s Casino that he hasn’t seen in years.

Louis is a terrible gambler; Louis is a terrible event planner.

And he doesn’t know why, but he feels like there’s been a build up to _tonight_ , not tomorrow, but now, this moment with his friends and Harry, and this night will change everything and, yeah, he doesn’t know why.

It’s hardly Vegas, but that’s never really been his scene, maybe once, but he’s mellowed out a large amount now that he’s twenty-five.

“Fancy a game of blackjack?” Zayn asks him as he pushes Niall through the door and he goes with it because Zayn is as chill as they come.

Louis’s is off to play Russian roulette, the devil’s game, Bobby used to call it.

He’d been expecting less people, but it’s pretty ram packed and he’s kind of happy about that.

Liam murmurs something to Zayn before following Louis, obviously making sure that he doesn’t blow too much cash.

He can see Harry at the bar, probably ordering some poncey pino gris, and he turns his attention back to the table in front of him.

The dealer shuffling cards expertly and asking them to place their bets.

 

***

 

“So lads, how did we all do?” Liam asks once they regroup about two hours later, he’s already got his arm around Zayn who’s done pretty shit.

“Fucking, fucked in the mouth this place is,” He mutters and Niall chuckles so hard that he nearly chokes on his Guinness.

Louis’s seems to be sharing the same sentiment as he grumbles in the direction of the roulette table.

“I won two-hundred quid,” Harry says, and he’s pretty damn happy about.

“Oh hush Harold,” Louis snaps and Niall’s not the only one laughing this time.

“Could’ve been worse mate,” Liam tries to subdue, and Niall thinks it better not to mention that he’s won about a hundred himself.

“Can we please just get demented right now?” Louis huffs and Niall doesn’t think he can handle much more.

Liam gives him a warning look but Louis just pulls a face

 “Only the best man’s gotta be on it tomorrow Payno.”

Zayn grins before saying “Let’s do the twenty shot challenge.”

Niall can already feel a headache formulating

“Where did you even get that idea from?” Louis asks but his matching smile just reminds Niall about how the two of them are partners in crime.

“It’s up there on the board,” Zayn nods in its general direction and they all turn to confirm if the statement is true.

“Sounds like a suicide mission to me,” Liam says with a shake of his head but Niall knows that he’s going to let them do it anyway.

Niall smirks “Get them in then,” Even though he has no intention of drinking any.

“Wait, so who’s up for this then?” Zayn reiterates.

Louis raises his hand.

“None for you Haz?” Zayn’s trying to get him on board.

Harry snorts “I’ll be drinking the ones you boys don’t finish.”

Liam ironically gets sent over to order them as the others slide into corner seats with fancy red cushioning that oozes sleaze.

Louis is muttering something about needing elbow space, and Zayn is telling him to stop being a twat.

Niall tries to identify the song that’s playing, slow track and the singer is crooning and it’s done by the time Liam and a bartender bring the two trays of ten over.

“Oi oi,” Louis jeers, wiping his palms on his thighs in anticipation.

“Calm down mate,” Niall laughs, not too sure about how this is going to go down.

He’s got a pretty decent idea but it’s not exactly appealing so he’s pushing it from his thoughts and praying that he doesn’t do anything stupid tonight.

He feels like he could, feels like he already wants to.

Last night of freedom his arse but it definitely is something, he can’t quite pin it down.

“Please don’t get paralytic,” Liam warns as he sits by Zayn, but there doesn’t really seem to be any real threat behind it.

“Won’t babe, promise,” Zayn lies fluidly and Liam just rolls his eyes.

“You two are mental,” Harry concludes, chin against his palm as he puts weight on his elbow.

Niall can see where his shirt has stretched to expose the skin of lower back, dimples and all and he has to look away.

It doesn’t help that it’s this moment wherein Harry chooses to cast a glance his way and catch him in the act.

Harry knows, but they’re good at ignoring the tension.

Louis knocks back his first shot and all attention is drawn to that, watching him grimace as the liquid burns its way down his throat.

“Fuckin rank,” he says as if he’d been expecting something else.

Zayn smirks and then does the same; his face is much more stoic once he’s done, almost like he’s mocking Louis for being such a baby.

“Imma get myself a pint,” Niall mumbles, partly because he’s thirsty but mainly because he needs to get away from Harry.

He’s thankful that no one decides to join him but Harry does ask him for a whisky and Niall feels it’s the least he can do.

His phone vibrates in his pocket whilst he waits and it’s Barbara, telling him that she loves him and he feels like he’s digging his own grave right about now.

He’s awful quiet when he gets back, both Louis and Zayn on their third shot, eyes already glazing.

Liam is telling them to go easy, always the voice of reason and that kind of relaxes him a little, things don’t have to be different.

_But they are._

“What’s wrong?” Someone finally asks quietly from beside him and of course it’s Harry, his tone somewhat dissatisfied.

Niall doesn’t look at him, just shrugs his shoulders and it’s most definitely not the response he wants. He can hear Harry’s sigh and the contact of his empty glass on the wooden table.

“I thought we were past the point wherein you keep acting like somebody’s died.”

 “Am,” he insists, straightening, fingers intertwining awkwardly in front of him.

“You’ve barely said a word all night,” Harry whispers, and it’s evident that this conversation is private, the other three all laughing as Louis dribbles drunkenly.

“Neither have you,” Niall retorts, a dark eyebrow cocked.

Harry blinks as Niall turns his face to him and Niall swears he can see the corners of his mouth twitch.

“You’re worried about tomorrow,” Harry concludes.

Niall feels like doing a slow clap but decides against it, he knows Harry wants to say more but it’s unlikely to be anything he’d like to hear.

“I don’t really get why though,” And this is not what Harry was initially going to continue with, Niall can tell.

“It’s the most important day of a woman’s life, or so I’ve heard,” He states uninterestedly, accent heavy on his tongue.

“You’re not worried about that though, are you?” The taller man muses and Niall doesn’t even have in it himself to say no.

He’s tired of lying to people, and with Harry it’s pointless because he’s got this thing, he sees it and gauges shit without having to vocalise it all.

Niall takes this moment to pretend that there’s no truth to what Harry is insinuating at all.

 

***

 

Louis finishes seven shots, whilst Zayn manages eight.

There’s a lot of vowing that there’ll be a rematch sometime soon and Niall listens to the talk with a smile.

“Too big for yer boots mate,” Zayn slurs with a snort and Liam has an arm tightly wrapped around him even though he sitting for his own safety.

Harry pulls the remaining shots over to where he and Niall are sitting, there’s still five left and Liam quickly drinks one so that there’s an equal two between them.

Niall’s already pretty tipsy, he’s been downing pints all night and this probably isn’t go to help, but then again he’s not asking for any.

“Ready?” Harry asks, and Niall just nods once before he takes the first one down, inhaling through his nose and then reaching for his second.

“Slow down,” The younger brunette chastises but Niall’s never been one for listening to orders so he drinks it and slams the small glass onto the table, turning to Harry with an eyebrow raised as if to say ‘and what?’.

Harry snorts and then pushes his last one over to Niall.

“Go on then,” And the smirk that’s plastered across his face tells Niall that he’s up to something.

“That one’s for you,” He explains slowly as if Harry’s too dumb to realise.

“I want you to have it.”

Niall can see that it’s a challenge so he just mutters out a ‘fine’ and swallows it. He’s not playing the game, just putting an end to it.

He swears that Harry looks disappointed almost but Niall’s past the point of caring.

He feels all warm now, even dizzier in the head but he’s not in the black out zone and he thinks that now is probably a good time to start ordering soft drinks.

Not that they’ll do any good in sobering him up.

“Feel good?” A smug voice asks, and Niall looks him dead in his green eyes.

“Fantastic.”

“So you won’t be needing any fresh air then?” He tempts and Niall knows that, yes, he could probably do with that.

But then again, so could everyone else in this place.

“You gonna escort me?” Niall jibes with a wry smile and Harry’s eyes glisten like he wants to do way more than just escort Niall anywhere.

“I could do, I’m not all that coherent myself though.”

The older man snorts and then stands, he doesn’t need Harry coming with him at all.

Louis, who _is_ drunk, looks up at him.

“Need some air,” Niall explains and then he can see Harry getting up too.

Louis looks hella satisfied for someone so intoxicated.

“Be safe,” He smirks and Niall thumps him lightly on the head because they’ll be back in ten minutes.

That’s all he’s letting Harry have.

 

***

 

They’re standing too close for Niall’s liking, well, his body likes it, but his conscious is very much against it.

He doesn’t really get why they’re out here just the two of them, there’s no real need for it.

He doesn’t get why his friends aren’t against it either.

“You’re awful quiet these days,” Harry murmurs and yeah, he is, and Harry knows that he’s the reason for it.

“Ya know me, never one for small talk,” He replies and watches as his breath comes out cool.

“Think we’re past the point of small talk Niall.”

Niall yawns into his palm and shrugs; he doesn’t _really_ know where he stands with Harry.

The taller boy runs his hand through his parted hair and tugs slightly on the end. This is usually the part where’d they kiss each other, and then Niall would have a lot to say but this isn’t the usual.

“You’re going to leave again,” Niall gets out, hoping Harry gets it, gets that’s why he’s holding back.

Harry doesn’t look like he’d been expecting that.

“You’re gonna have your own life here,” He replies and Niall sighs because Harry knows that’s not what he meant.

“I _have_ my own life Harry; ya can’t just pick and choose as to when you’d like to be a part of it.”

There’s a moment of stillness.

“Do you want me to be a part of it?”

Niall inhales and then exhales roughly

“Let’s go back inside.”

Harry doesn’t move, his eyes daring Niall to even try.

“Answer the question.”

Niall doesn’t want to, doesn’t think he’ll like the words that’ll come out of his mouth.

His feet are taking steps forward despite the clear warning Harry’s sending him and maybe it’s not just Harry’s habit to run when things are feeling too overwhelming.

He doesn’t get very far, a large hand grabbing his forearm and pushing him back.

Harry tuts teasingly, “Naughty Niall.”              

He doesn’t let go, if anything, his grip feels tighter and the older boy tries shaking him off.

He’s had too many drinks for this, he doesn’t trust himself.

“Answer the question and then we’ll go back,” The tall brunette explains, as if it’s the most logical thing.

“H-Harry, I can’t,” Niall stutters and feels like dying because he’s being such a pussy.

All he has to do is say no.

It’s not as if Harry can tell when he’s lying, at least, not anymore.

Greens eyes are almost glaring at him, waiting for something, anything, and Niall clears his throat uncomfortably because he doesn’t know what to do.

Finally, the hand on his arm is loosening and he thinks he’s won.

He hasn’t, they both know that, and maybe that’s why Harry smiles, because Niall’s silence is all the answer he needed.

 

***

 

They really ought to order bigger taxi’s because it’s a harrowing task to be wedged in-between Zayn and the door, especially when he’s falling asleep on Niall’s shoulder and smells like he’s just smoked 20 fags.

It’s times like this where he really does appreciate his friends though, because they’re just as fucked as he is.

But he’s pretty sure he’s the only one who feels like a total idiot right now, the idiot who’s staring at the back of a head of curly hair.

Thinking about how he should’ve just said yes because it would have been less of a victory for Harry.

“We back yet?” Louis asks from the other and of the car and Liam tells him that they’ll only be a minute now, one more minute and then Niall can finally get back into his own bed, _alone_.

It’s the only thing that wills him out of the car once it stops.

“Help me with him,” Liam says and Niall’s about to but Louis beats him to it, face full of knowing like he’s an omnipotent god.

 “Need me to take _you_ to bed?”

And it’s Harry, obviously, who’s nudging his shoulder and winking flirtatiously.

Niall’s almost thankful for its light heartedness, trying hard to ignore the part of him that wishes he would let Harry do just that.

“Haven’t needed that in a long while.”

 

***

 

Niall _honestly_ doesn’t know how they actually end up in his bedroom together, but they do. Harry sits down first and Niall follows, because, what else is he supposed to do?

There’s so much shit that needs to be said, he tells himself that that’s why Harry’s here.

His room is warmer now and one of the spotlights is broken so that only the far end is lit, shadows forming across Harry’s cheeks in the dim glow.

“It hasn’t changed much,” Harry yawns and Niall feels sad at the fact that Harry’s been here before, that he had loved him enough to bring him to his home and let him sleep in his bed.

“Yeah,” Niall agrees, because he’s right, it’s just… emptier.

Harry looks up at the white ceiling; only it’s less of a white now and more a pale grey, and stretches his long legs out, kicking at the stray trainer Niall hasn’t bothered to put away.

“Didn’t realise how much I actually missed this place.”

Niall hears ‘ _you’_ instead of ‘this place’.

He uses that thought to numb the embarrassment he feels as soon as he drunkenly, and _stupidly,_ admits “I’ve missed you.”

Harry’s head lowers again until they’re eye level and his face says it all.

_I know._

“Never thought I’d be here with you belonging to someone else.”

Niall can feel his jaw clenching because he doesn’t belong to anyone, he’s a grown man and he’s doing a good thing in progressing with his life.

“Just doesn’t seem right,” Harry mumbles, picking at his nail.

He thinks about that for a moment.

“What exactly are ya getting at?” Niall questions, because Harry isn’t making much sense at all, and he feels like this is wrong, the two of them being so close when Niall’s already got all he’s supposed to need.

There’s a silence, like the one that’s been following them for days and he knows what Harry’s thinking, it’s the same thing he’d tried to express to Zayn the other day.

He prays that he won’t have to hear it though.

“Seeing you again, it’s made me realise that maybe, that there _is_ something still here between us.”

Obviously no higher entity is listening to him now because he watches as Harry sighs and runs a palm over his face, seemingly annoyed by the confession.

“You were the one who walked away Harry, just upped and left,” Niall reminds him with a cold but hazy stare, because Harry has no right to be doing this, especially on the eve of his wedding day, especially when they’ve been ignoring this.

“I was so stupid Ni, really stupid and scared, god it’s pathetic.”

 Harry reaches to stroke at Niall’s pale cheek, but the shorter boy shifts out of reach. This frustrates the younger man and his hand curls into a fist before he bites out

“This won’t make you happy, your family yeah, but not you.”

Niall watches as his long fingers relax.

 “I can make you happy.”

And there they are; the unspoken words that Harry’s been wanting to say to him since that first night outside the pub.

Niall can feel his heart sinking “You’re three years too late.”

He won’t be taken for a fool and he can’t hurt Barbara like this, not like _this_.

Harry nods his head, as if accepting the fact that his words are of no use. His pink lips part and he looks like he’s about to speak again but he doesn’t, instead he nods his head for the second time, a soft “Sorry,” creeping its way into the open.

Niall feels a whole new level of guilt, because in protecting Barbara he’s upset Harry. He tries to tell himself not to be, but with Harry sitting next to him all curls and dimples it’s rather impossible.

“I didn’t mean that, well I did, but I didn’t mean for it to sound so harsh.”

Harry smiles at him, but Niall doesn’t fail to notice how tense it looks, his lips unusually mean.

“It’s fine; I don’t know what I was thinking.”

Niall feels manipulated almost, like he’s the one who’s in the wrong, even though that’s obviously not the case.

“I’d still like for you to be there tomorrow, t’would mean a lot to me.”

It’s the truth, Harry is so very important, but three years can change everything, including Niall’s tolerance.

Harry nods for a third time, but Niall remembers enough about this brunette to know that nothing is concrete; Harry’s probably already planning his journey home.

“Please just stay,” Niall finds himself begging, and maybe it’s not just for tomorrow, but for that day all those years ago. He’s contradicting himself, pleading with the man who broke his heart.

Harry doesn’t speak, just lets his green eyes linger on Niall’s face and the older boy thinks he could count each of Harry’s eyelashes if he put his mind to it. They’re long and Niall wonders if they’re still as soft.

“Okay,” Harry says and his voice reminds Niall of where he is, of Barbara, and the fact that these thoughts about Harry are only fleeting.

Niall wipes the sweat that has gathered on his palms along his dark jeans; Harry watches the movement with pouty lips.

“Ya mean it?”

Asking is futile; Harry’s never been all that good at keeping promises, not that Niall’s making him promise aloud, he just figures it’s pretty obvious.

“Most definitely,” and it’s very serious, so serious that it’s alien, Harry doesn’t like commitment, he runs from it.

“And when I say that I mean it, I’m referring to the fact that you getting married tomorrow is ridiculous, beyond idiotic if you ask me,” Harry concludes and Niall’s breath catches in his throat.

“Harry-”

Only he shuts up when the other man grasps at the flesh of his thigh through the denim and tells him “I love you Niall, I’ve been in love with you this whole time, and it fucking terrifies me, I just can’t stop.”

Silence descends upon the room as Niall tries to take it all in.

_Harry’s still in love with him?_

“Stop it,” Niall finally snaps as he pushes Harry’s hand from his leg “Do you have any idea of how unreasonable you’re being?”

Harry groans agitatedly, the look on his face pensive.

“Doesn’t this mean anything to you?”

Of course it does, but it’s confusing and Niall can’t handle it, he needs to stick to the plan, Harry isn’t part of the plan.

He can’t be hearing this, he just can’t.

Harry watches on frustrated as Niall’s silence continues, because why did Harry have to open his big mouth a throw all of this out here?

“Ni… baby.”

And that’s what does it, hearing Harry’s voice lower to the whisper he’d once reserved only for him; making him shiver and then shove at Harry’s shoulders in anger.

“Shut up, shut up, shut up,” He repeats as Harry falls back against the hard wood of the headboard, a frown forming on his face.

Though this time it seems like Harry’s really done with running because it’s the first time Niall’s ever seen him retaliate with such force, shifting forward until he has Niall pinned beneath him, strong hands holding down hard arms.

Niall stares him down, can feel Harry’s breath on his skin, the heat of his chest radiating against him.

There’s more silence, interrupted by Niall’s laboured breathing as Harry wedges his narrow hips between slim legs and ruts into the space he’s created.

The realisation that hits him is almost as hard as Harry is.

 “Ya getting off on this?” Niall stutters out, and he doesn’t know what he’s expecting but it certainly isn’t this, this is crossing the line they both know about and don’t want to acknowledge, or at least they’d been pretending not to.

“I get off on _you,_ Niall,” Harry explains with a roll of his hips, so matter of fact Niall has to believe him.

And he thinks that this is all to prove a point, for Harry to show Niall that he’ll always have some sort of control over him, push him under and then leave him again.

He can feel the panic rising in his chest, less about this and more about the idea of having to go through that again, no rest and no conclusion.

He’s so caught up in the thought that he doesn’t notice Harry leaning down to kiss wetly at his lips, using Niall’s surprise to his advantage and licking into his mouth so that Niall thinks he might choke on his tongue.

He doesn’t move, doesn’t kiss Harry back no matter how much he wants to and Harry’s agitated by this, kisses soft like he knows Niall likes at the start, but groin demanding.

He tries to fight it; he really does, only his resistance fades with each thrust, until he finally groans up into Harry’s mouth and bucks his own hips, because yes, he’s turned on, and a disgusting human being.

“Shit,” Harry grunts as his head drops to Niall’s neck, curls tickling the sensitive skin there, and his grip on Niall’s forearms loosens so that the smaller boy can dig his palms into the bones decorated with inked ferns.

“Fuck, we, we gotta stop,” Niall rushes out, but there’s no conviction to it, he knows that there’s _no_ stopping now.

“Don’t w-want to,” Harry stutters, and in reality Niall doesn’t want to either.

He shouldn’t be doing this, but his thoughts of Barbara are overtaken by the scent of Harry and the sweet taste he’s left in Niall’s mouth. His arousal is at its unforgiving peak and it’s because of Harry, everything is because of Harry he thinks.

And he’s pissed because there are too many layers in between them, only they’re settled into a rhythm, shamelessly grinding against each other as Harry sucks at Niall’s freckled neck, and he can’t do anything about it.  He settles for shoving his hands beneath Harry’s jeans, the tight denim leaving marks as he squeezes at the soft flesh of Harry’s arse, urging him down harder until it feels rough against his hard dick.

Nobody knows his body like Harry does, he’s never let anyone touch his body like Harry has.

_Harry, Harry, Harry._

He feels so familiar and warm, his body firm despite its soft appearance, and this is what Niall’s really missed, having Harry pressed against him and infiltrating his personal space so that his back is arching and his legs are quaking.

“Keep going,” Niall urges, even though he should be saying the opposite, his accent thick and tongue hanging against his lips so that he can get more oxygen to his lungs, toes already curling and he feels embarrassed that this can make him feel so good, so hot.

Harry’s moaning into his shoulder, nipping at what little skin is exposed as he mumbles a combination of the words ‘Niall’ and ‘Fuck’. Niall used to think he could never tire of making Harry feel this way, perhaps he still hasn’t, maybe Harry’s had him all along.

“Gonna come,” Harry keens prettily, nails scratching at Niall’s biceps as his movements become messier and Niall’s so close that his eyes are rolling back into his head, a flash of red already playing out before him even though he’s yet to finish.

“Kiss me,” Niall gets out because he hasn’t felt Harry like _this_ in forever and he’d almost forgotten how good it was.

Harry’s mouth is swollen against his and Niall traces his tongue along the backs of his teeth, because it’s only seconds now, and he really doesn’t want to come in his pants but the thought of having Harry do so without removing his clothes is pretty much what gives him that extra edge and he’s throwing his head to the side as he rides out his orgasm, vaguely aware of Harry following through not long after.

When he’s done Harry’s arms give way and his head falls to Niall’s chest, curls matted along his brow, Niall doesn’t know if it’s the alcohol that’s making him tired or the weight of Harry on top of him. What he does know is that there’s cum drying in his briefs and Harry’s eyes are screwed shut.

“Harry,” He murmurs but Harry doesn’t move, keeping up the façade that he’s fallen asleep until Niall weakly manages to yank at one of his curls.

“Don’t marry her,” Harry pleads uncharacteristically as he lifts his head, Niall wishes that in this moment he could forget all about tomorrow.

“I love you,” Harry states, the pink flush of his cheeks becoming distracting and Niall can’t help but run his thumb along the line of his slick bottom lip.

“This isn’t love Harry,” Niall smiles gloomily “This is just lust.”

Harry’s head shakes above him “No it’s not, I love you, I do, I love you so much.”

Niall hushes him with a kiss, a hard one that makes Harry whine and pull his lips away.

“You don’t want her Niall, not as much as you want me.”

Niall doesn’t miss the way Harry won’t refer to Barbara by her name, realisation dawning.

“It’s not about what I want anymore, it’s too late to change things Harry, you know that I _loved_ ya, you know that, but I can’t just stop everything I’ve got going on because you’ve finally come to your senses.”

Harry clambers off of him, the upset scrawled across his features.

“Then _what_ was all of this?”

Niall slides his legs over the edge of the bed and sits upright, his underwear sticking to him uncomfortably.

“A proper goodbye.” Because maybe now he’ll have Harry out of his system, he’ll know where he stands.

Harry scoffs and Niall guiltily hopes that the other man can feel a small amount of what he had felt when Harry had abandoned him.

“Right,” Harry deadpans and then he’s getting to his feet and leaving Niall alone in a room that’s never been quite the same since the first time Harry had been there.

 

***

 

It shouldn’t feel like this, waking up on your wedding day just isn’t supposed to be _this._

He’s spent a restless night guiltily thinking about Harry’s lips and cock and shit, fuck he’s fucked.

Niall’s always had a big mouth, likes to open when he shouldn’t.

Because he’s still in his pyjama bottoms when he walks down the hall to Liam’s room, knocks on the door with a shaky hand and practically tumbles to the floor when he’s let in.

Zayn’s still half asleep on the bed and Niall should feel bad for waking him but he’s saying it before Liam can even ask him what he wants.

“I kissed Harry,” He confesses once he’s looking into brown eyes that widen as soon as he’s out with it.

“What?” Liam asks confused, Zayn’s attention suddenly caught as he sits up with messy hair.

“Last night, we- we kissed, and got each other off,” He winces at how he makes it sound and he’s pretty sure the look Liam is giving him is disappointment.

His short legs carry him to the bed and he looks up at Liam pleadingly.

“Holy fuck,” Zayn mutters as he kicks the covers off of his legs.

“I don’t understand Niall”

 “He kissed me Liam, and I let him, I wanted him,” He sighs, eyes trained on his feet.

“Why don’t you let me handle this yeah babe?” Zayn tells Liam, eyes narrowed as an indication that he isn’t helping.

Liam shakes his head a little but then he’s patting Niall on the shoulder and saying he’ll go and check on Lou.

The darker haired boy yawns loudly and then nudges Niall.

“I knew this would happen,” He states, but it’s sympathetic if anything.

“I’ve fucked up Zayn, I’m supposed to be getting married today and all I can think about is Harry.”

There’s a moment of silence.

“I’m not going to tell you who you should pick, that’s up to you, but just like, do what makes you happy.”

Niall doesn’t mean to but he rolls his eyes.

“Oi,” Zayn jibes teasingly and Niall has to smile at it.

“I’m an idiot,” He laughs but it’s dry and sore.

“Maybe, but this isn’t about that Niall, this is about Harry and what he means to you.”

He sighs, scratches the back of his neck as he lets that sink in.

“It was a mistake,” Niall mutters, the words hurting him because he knows it’s not true, loving Harry had never been a mistake.

“If you wanna go through with this then me and the lads are behind you one-hundred percent,” Zayn tells him, and it sounds so sincere that Niall might actually cry.

“I do,” He finally answers, thinking about Barbara and how much this all means to her, what she’s given up for him.

All he has to do is say it again in a few hours’ time.

 

***

 

Niall puts on the components of his suit, a little hurriedly as if he’ll not do it at all if he prolongs it any further.

He’s looking at the length of his body in the mirror, can see that looks just as good as any handsome man in a well-fitting suit.

 He’s more rather wallowing self-pity that admiring himself right about now, can imagine the rest of the lads already waiting down in the conservatory for a small drink.

He knows the cars are outside, ready to take him the short distance to the church where the ceremony’s going to be held.

Niall’s not all that religious, but he feels pretty shitty about stepping into a house of God after being unfaithful not even twenty-four hours prior.

He’s never ever cheated before, has never wanted to, so something about this doesn’t sit right with him.

Then again, he’ll tell himself anything to distract from the fact there’s something different about what he has with Harry.

Has? Had?

Fuck he doesn’t know anymore.

Niall’s disorientated, can’t stop re-tucking his white shirt over and over again, it looks off in this lighting he thinks.

Everything looks off.

 

***

 

It’s pure coincidence that he comes across Harry in the hallway as he’s about to go downstairs.

The curly haired brunette is dressed in appropriate wedding attire with his camera hanging around his neck.

His mouth goes dry and his eyes cast themselves downwards, he’s all nerves right about now.

He stops a foot away from the taller man, knows words are about to exchanged.

“I didn’t know if you were still here,” Niall murmurs, because he can’t just ignore him, there’s no ignoring Harry.

“You’d like that wouldn’t you?” His tone is brisk, straight in for the kill “If I just fucked off.”

“What?” Niall asks quietly because he doesn’t want that at all.

“You got what you wanted from me last night didn’t you? I mean, correct me if I wrong.”

The Irish lad straightens at that, he’s blushing as his eyes meet Harry’s harsh green gaze.

“That’s not-”

 “Not what?” Harry cuts off agitatedly “I get it, you wanted to teach me a lesson, and really you’ve done a fantastic job.”

Niall runs a palm over the material of his tie in an attempt to remain stoic.

“I’m here to do a job for you, that’s all.”

Harry makes to move, wants to slip forward and reach their mutual destination before Niall can.

“Harry,” He speaks lowly, his pale hand catching onto Harry’s wrist and bringing him to a halt.

Niall watches as Harry glances down to where they’re connected, can see his expression soften and when he’s looking back up at Niall he looks neither angry nor interested, simply hurt.

“What?”

“I- I…” And now that he’s being given a chance to say something Niall can’t even think, let alone form a coherent sentence.

The younger boy sighs and Niall can see him biting his lower lip in annoyance.

“Are we done here?”

Niall pushes Harry’s arm away and rubs at his blue eyes agitatedly

“You can’t just expect to turn up here, tell me you love me and think that I’ll fall for it.”

He can’t stand the fact that Harry’s acting like Niall’s the bad guy.

“It’s not a trick,” Harry mutters grimly and, yeah, Niall flinches a little at how real that sounds.

The Irish lad sucks in a breath, and he doesn’t know how to respond, doesn’t know what the tall brunette wants to hear.

And maybe the point is that Harry doesn’t want to hear any words, just wants Niall to act.

But he’s stuck, feet planted firmly on the white wooden flooring of the hallway because he knows that if he initiates anything it’s not just on Harry anymore.

At least this way he can pretend that what occurred yesterday was a moment of weakness, he’d given in, but hadn’t had the intention of starting something.

Only pretending is pointless what with the way Harry looks through him, sees him.                

Suddenly it feels like last night’s not come to an end at all, like they’re still pressed against each other on Niall’s bed.

Harry’s on him then, slinking forward, and it’s like time is rolling in slow motion, Niall’s gut clenching, the butterflies in his stomach fluttering around their cage.

He runs his tongue along the roof his mouth in anticipation and then as pink lips attempt to meet his he turns his head so that they land on his cheek, slick against his hot skin.

Harry sucks in a breath; steps back eyes glaring at Niall like he’s just been wronged, rejection flooding through the colour green.

The older boy watches his Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows slowly, and he almost thinks Harry’s going to apologise for pushing it.

He doesn’t, just clears his throat and this time when he makes to move away Niall lets him.

 

***

 

“Looking dapper mate,” Louis tells him once he’s finally down in the conservatory, a glass pushed into his hand that he downs in an attempt to calm his nerves.

“Ta,” He smiles, rolling his eyes and feeling Liam pat his back.

“Cars are waiting,” He informs, nudging Niall forwards a little.

He licks his lips clean and nods, eager to be sitting down so that his legs don’t betray him.

Curly brown hair catches his attention briefly, and he realises that Harry’s got to be there earlier to take some shots of the church.

He’s slightly relieved that they won’t be traveling in the same vehicle, doesn’t think he can look at him now that he’s turned him down.

“You all sorted?” Zayn asks him quietly, and Niall nods again, not really wanting to say anything in case his voice slips up and proves just how much he’s brickin’ it.

It’s all bad nerves though, not the happy kind he’s been expecting and even as he tries to push it aside he can’t, he’s constantly swallowing lumps in his throat.

“Nialler?” And it’s Liam who’s talking, hand on Niall’s arm and tugging.

He shifts backwards, unsure as to why he’s being touched and then realises he needs to get to car and feels like an idiot.

“Right, right, yeah let’s go.”

Niall flashes Liam a smile that actually hurts.

 

***

 

He’d thinks standing at the altar will qualm some of his anxieties.

It doesn’t.

Niall can feel his pulse hammering against the hollow of his throat and he’s trying not to fidget.

His eyes meet Harry’s more times than he cares to admit, camera a shield whenever Niall stares for too long.

He’s really fucking losing his mind, his ma looks lovely and she’s sitting at the front only a few feet away and fuck he doesn’t want to let her down.

He knows that Liam’s not far, rings safely in his pocket and this should be easy.

Really it should be.

But then there’s soft music playing and this is it.

She’s here, walking down the aisle in a slim fitting dress, so perfectly accustomed  to her body that it’s makes her look like she belongs, belongs in this place, in that dress, on the happiest day of her life.

Niall’s breath catches, but it’s not because of her beauty, or the thrill he’s feeling at the prospect of being her husband, it’s because he’s finally realising that it’s him who doesn’t belong, like he’s having a well needed epiphany.

 _Why_ is he doing this?

Barbara’s second best, not what he truly desires and fuck he’s fucked up.

She’s looking at him with blue eyes and he has to swallow bile because he wants for them so badly to be green, so badly to be Harry’s.

He’s chosen the cruellest moment to make that final decision.

And it’s happening then, the priest is welcoming their dearly beloved, talking about holy matrimony and Niall’s stiffening, his hand slipping out of Barbara’s and resting at his side.

“No,” He mumbles, stepping back a little, and fuck if it’s not an adrenaline rush.

His fiancée frowns, her eyes narrowing in confusion but gestures for the priest to continue anyway, making for Niall’s hand again.

“No,” He repeats, louder this time so that it echoes hoarsely round the room, noticing as the priest looks to him for guidance.

Niall shakes his head, a confirmation.

It’s eerily silent, everyone’s breath held in realisation with what’s happening.

“I-I don’t understand,” Barbara finally speaks, softly, as she looks down at her small hands.

Niall’s head is throbbing, because is he really doing this? Is he really doing this in front of everyone?

“It’s just not right, it doesn’t feel right,” He can hear himself explaining, but it’s sort of like he’s having an outer body experience.

His eyes find where Harry’s standing at the end of the aisle, camera lowered and looking like he can’t quite believe it either.

“Niall look at me,” Barbara orders quietly but he doesn’t do it, Harry’s all that he can see.

But he can’t leave her without an explanation, can he?

“Somebody get me a drink,” She mumbles and Niall’s vaguely aware of one of the bridesmaids doing as they’re told.

“I lied,” He breathes out unsteadily and this time he does look at her “Harry’s not an old friend of mine, we-we were in a relationship.”

Her eyes look glassy, and he knows she’s going to cry.

“What has that got to do with anything?”

But she understands it all; everything makes sense in that moment.

A glass is placed in her hand and she’s breathing heavy.

“It means I can’t do this with you,” What it really means is that he’s still in love with Harry but he doesn’t want to admit that right now, doesn’t want everyone to know.

And within the next few seconds there’s liquid being thrown over his face and hair, the smell of champagne hitting his nostrils and he takes a little step back.

“I think that’s enough,” And it’s his ma who’s talking, hand protectively curling around Niall’s wrist.

Barbara’s face is wet too, but it’s tears that her cheeks are stained with.

“I’m sorry,” He mumbles, because he is but also isn’t.

“Just go,” She sniffles and Niall can feel a larger hand on him, looks up to see a concerned Harry and that just makes Niall feel even guiltier.

“I’ll take care of this,” Maura smiles sadly, and Niall can see Liam’s standing figure growing smaller as Harry guides him down the aisle, away from the church and along the garden path to where the cars are waiting.

“Take us back to the house please,” Harry tells him briskly, doesn’t even bother taking in the driver’s confusion.

Niall’s trying not to replay the look on Barbara’s face, but it’s so vivid in his mind.

Harry’s roughly pulling his tie loose, letting it drop onto his lap and unbuttoning the top of his shirt.

Niall slumps forward to rest his head in his hands.

“Harry,” He whispers and the other man’s pulling him upwards so that he can see into his eyes.

And he wants to kiss him but it just isn’t fair so he intertwines their fingers instead and, yeah, he might squeeze harder than he should.

 

***

 

Niall sits opposite Harry in the small bath tub, the smell of champagne lingering in his hair that’s yet to be washed.

“Can’t say I was expecting anything less,” Harry sighs sympathetically as the faucet pours hot water from behind him.

He’s sat with his long legs pressed to his tattooed chest and Niall’s too caught up in what’s just happened to even think about the fact that they’re bathing together naked.

He folds his legs towards himself also, almost an act of protection, like he fears Barbara’s going to burst in at any given moment and scream at him.

“Ni?” Harry’s voice asks quietly and Niall looks up at him.

“Hmm?”

“Don’t be angry with yourself.”

And maybe Harry’s just saying that because Niall’s given him the answer he’s been looking for, given him what he’s wanted.

Of course he’s angry, bloody furious that he’s been selfish and hurt Barbara but he can’t deny the warmth that he feels at being this close to Harry again, knowing that he’s _his_ again.

“Something about you,” Niall smiles sadly “Just can’t say no.”

Harry looks guilty, and Niall doesn’t want him to be at the brunt of this.

“Turn,” Harry instructs gently and Niall does so without having to be told twice, trying not to splash any water onto the tiled floor.

The tap is shut off and then Harry’s legs are on either side of him, chest to his back and he kisses at Niall’s shoulder for a brief second.

Wet hands run through Niall’s dark hair and he lets his eyes flutter closed at how good it feels to be cared for again, briefly aware of Harry spreading shampoo through the roots and then over his nape.

There’s a moment in which Harry’s hands aren’t on him anymore and when Niall’s looks over his shoulder to see what the holdup is he catches Harry tending to himself, soapy curls flattened against his forehead.

“Didn’t tell you to stop,” Niall pouts and Harry chuckles, less tension in his features now that Niall’s being more responsive.

“Rinse off first,” Harry smirks, passing over the detachable shower head and setting it to the right temperature.

Niall’s less interested in being clean now and more dizzy at the idea of having Harry touch him again.

He twists awkwardly once he’s done and then sprays at him, watching the boy breathe in sharply at the surprise contact.

Harry lets him finish though, green eyes sulking once they’re able to open.

Niall doesn’t care if he’s pretending or not, just brings his knees round and under him so that he’s just a little taller than Harry is and kisses roughly at his mouth.

He doesn’t respond at first, obviously still unsure as to whether Niall’s really okay, but now that Niall’s registering the beauty that is Harry in front of him, he just wants to lick every inch of his skin.

He pulls off and stares into the green eyes in front of him.

“What are you doing?” Harry asks quietly because he wants to know if this is going to go any further and well, does Niall want it to?

Because this will make everything right.

“I want you,” Niall lets the words roll from his tongue and steps onto the floor, holding out his hand for Harry to take.

It’s all the answer that Harry really needs.

Their bodies are barely dry by the time Niall’s got the younger man back into the room, down onto the mattress so that droplets of water are staining the sheet beneath them.

Looking at Harry in his entirety again is like a rush of blood to the head and Niall can’t get enough of it.

He’s darker than Niall, tanned skin still light and feathery to touch, something he shouldn’t be doing right now but it is, because this is the choice he’s made and he wouldn’t have it any other way.

Harry’s humming beneath him, long cock hardening against his stomach and Niall wants to taste it because it’s been so long but he’s just so eager for Harry to be in him that he’s tensing up, the cold air slickening his body further.

“Relax,” Harry murmurs softly, large hands pulling him down so that they’re flush against each other and Harry’s licking into Niall’s mouth, dick pressed against Niall’s sharp hip bone.

“Tell me what you want,” Harry whispers, making Niall grind down against him.

Niall doesn’t know, that’s the problem, he wants everything all at once but Harry’s only one man and it’s impossible.

“Need to feel you,” He breathes hastily, lips pressing to Harry’s ear and teeth tugging at the lobe, knowing his words aren’t specific enough for him.

There’s a lingering silence before Harry questions him darkly.

“Here?”  Pulling back so that two fingers can slip into Niall’s mouth and the Irish lad’s cheeks hollow so that he can suck like he knows Harry wants him to.

“Or here?” And then the fingers are gone and trailing down to the plush of his arse, teasing at the crevice before pushing to stroke over Niall’s hole momentarily.

Niall bites at his lip, a groan rumbling in his throat because, god yes, that’s what he needs.

“Y-yeah,” He pants into Harry’s neck, not answering either question and amusing Harry further.

“Which is it Niall?” He questions, thumbs brushing over the backs of Niall’s thighs so that he rocks against Harry again and he can feel his pre come smearing over their stomachs.

“You know which,” Niall grunts, nails digging into Harry’s sides as he tries to get more friction.

Harry’s a tease though, always has been and Niall knows he’ll be begging before he can get what he craves.

He’s so turned on, so far done already that he forgets about the fact that he’s just left Barbara at the alter and that he’s in his childhood bed with the boy who broke him.

Harry’s tracing circles into his lower back and Niall’s getting frustrated.

“Just fuck me already Haz,” He bites out, and pushes up so that their chests aren’t in contact anymore.

“I haven’t heard you call me that in a while,” Harry tells him with a smile and Niall wants to cry because now is no time for sentiment.

“Uhuh.”

Niall’s sat up now, straddling the taller boy, one hand as leverage against Harry’s chest as the other fists at Harry’s cock.

“Fuck,” Harry curses, surprised by Niall’s sudden impatience.

“Fingers,” Niall orders throatily and watches as Harry’s tongue swipes out to lick at his pink bottom lip.

Harry looks to be challenging him, but Niall’s having none of it, thumbing at his cock’s slit and rubbing the moisture over the length.

“God you’re eager,” Harry chokes out, and a wave of arousal hits Niall as the words echo those from their first meeting.

“Must be the company,” Niall grins before his mouth falls open as Harry finally inserts his index finger into him.

He doesn’t really want the prep, but it’s been three years and there’s no doubt that it’s needed.

“Harry,” Niall stutters out as he feels the stretch that he’s been missing and he’s so dirty for it, but it’s Harry and everything about him is pure filth.

The finger that’s working him is moving too slow and it’s too skinny and he’s demanding more before he’s really ready for it.

Harry just gives him it, second finger longer and more filling and Niall’s hand isn’t capable of moving on Harry’s cock anymore because his head is falling against his shoulder and he’s rocking down onto Harry’s hand as he crooks his fingers inside of him.

Harry doesn’t seem all that bothered by it though, watching Niall with hooded eyes before he’s sitting up so that they’re chest to chest and he can kiss Niall’s neck.

“M’ good to go,” Niall slurs, drunk off of Harry’s touches and Harry chuckles against his cheek.

His hand is still wedged underneath Niall and he can’t move it all that fast but he’s got the friction of Niall’s dick on his own and it’s bloody lovely.

“Not yet,” Harry tells him, sensing Niall’s readiness but wanting to prolong each moment.

“Harry,” Niall grits out, and he’s sinking his teeth into his lip to stop any more noise from escaping.

“Niall,” He copies, smirk forming like he’s winning every battle they’re ever fought and Niall kisses him hard, daring to bite at his tongue if he doesn’t fuck the shit out of him soon.

“Condom?”

And Niall shakes his head because, yeah, he trusts Harry enough for it to be bare and Harry’s fingers slip a little at the revelation, not expecting Niall to be so giving.

“O-okay.”

Niall feels a surge of pride at making Harry lose it more than he is, pushing at Harry’s unoccupied arm to reach for the lube that he’s got somewhere on the bedside table.

Niall takes it from him impatiently once he sees the little bottle and squeezes the contents downwards, not really aiming for Harry’s cock and getting it all over his own too.

Harry smears it down his length and then meets Niall’s eyes expectantly.

Niall lifts his hips and Harry pulls his hand free, clutching at the bed sheets as Niall positions Harry at his entrance and without any warning sinks down onto the tip, eyes closing as he expands at the intrusion.

Harry’s breath catches in his throat and Niall whines in approval as the taller boy bottoms out at a leisurely pace.

He fists at Harry’s hair, faces level as they breath into each other and he sighs as Harry’s hands settle onto his waist so that he can keep him steady.

“Move,” Harry instructs greedily, and Niall’s blue eyes open, accepting the challenge Harry hasn’t intentionally set.

His hips stutter at first, the feeling of being so full incredibly overwhelming and he can’t stop the whimpers that are leaving his mouth at all.

He’s not rushing it, but he’s making his presence known, slamming down as hard as he possibly can each time so that Harry is groaning out his name.

“Fuck you’re tight,” The tattooed man curses “There hasn’t been anyone since me has there?”

And Niall shakes his head shyly, nails dragging over Harry’s nipples so that he’s hissing as Niall confesses.

Harry’s not liking the tantalising pace, so he’s thrusting up forcefully to meet Niall but and it feels like heaven and hell combined.

“Faster, please,” Harry begs prettily and it’s the first time Niall’s ever really heard it so he does what he’s told, bouncing up and down until he can’t quite take anymore.

Harry makes him crazy.

Or maybe it the fact that Harry’s shifting backwards so that he can rest against the headboard and fucking into Niall at a deeper angle, hitting his prostate like he’s found gold.

“Fuck Harry,” Niall pants and Harry knows too well what he’s doing and he keeps on doing it until Niall has tears in his eyes, his dick throbbing from where it’s trapped between their bodies as he rotates his hips.

“Wank me off.”

It’s crude and obnoxious and very them.

“No.”

“No?” Niall gulps and he pinches at the nipple beneath his hand in a hazed annoyance.

“Gonna make you come without it,” Harry states simply as he shudders and drives himself into Niall again, so hard that Niall can feel the sweat that’s forming on his skin beginning to trail down his body.

They’re both as stubborn as each other and Niall doesn’t want to orgasm without his cock being touched but he knows very well that he will because this is Harry and he’s done it to Niall before.

Harry keeps reaching _that_ spot and Niall’s mouth has been hanging open for so long that saliva’s pooling and threatening to dribble onto his chin.

Harry’s got a perfectly reasonable solution though, kissing Niall wetly but not with his tongue because he’s using it to express how good he feels.

Niall doesn’t know how he’s gone three years without this, three years of being the one doing the fucking instead of getting fucked.

His skin is hot to touch and he feels like he’s alight with it all, stomach muscles coiling as he realises just who he’s with and what it all means.

“Harry,” He warns breathlessly, and Harry quirks an eyebrow as if to question ‘ _So soon?_ ’

And suddenly there’s no rhythm anymore, just erratic hip movements from them both and Niall doesn’t do all that much before he’s coming against the broad planes of Harry’s chest and going limp against him.

He’s whimpering pathetically with each following thrust, his sensitive prick still rubbing against skin and he just wants Harry to finish so that he can hear him moaning his name again before he falls asleep.

It happens as soon as the thought passes and he can feel Harry’s cum in him, dick pulsing repeatedly and the words ‘Niall, Niall, Niall’ emitting from above him.

Harry’s head hits the wood behind it and the stillness that follows is fantastic.

 

***

 

Niall wakes up with his arm wrapped around Harry’s waist, chest pressed to the heat of his back.

His lips are still sore as they rest against the shoulder blade in front of him, free of sweat now and protruding from beneath tanned skin.

It can’t be any more than three hours gone and Niall’s muscles are aching and he’s still sticky with cum.

His stomach is empty and he’s yearning for something substantial, but he’s more interested in mouthing at the body before him, getting another taste of Harry and licking gently for his own satisfaction.

Then Harry is stirring beneath the touch, turning to face Niall with a tired smirk and fluttery eyelashes.

“Wanna be the big spoon for a sec,” Harry explains with a yawn and Niall lets his warm hand turn him onto his other side.

Then Harry’s fingers trace along his abdomen, his muscles clench, and it reminds Niall of how much he needs touch.

“I’m sorry,” He murmurs, leaning into the body behind him with an embarrassing sigh.

Harry stiffens behind him and Niall doesn’t like it.

“I shouldn’t have waited so long, you know, to tell her.”

He goes lax again, arm around Niall the only thing that doesn’t lessen up and he’s burying his face in dark hair.

“Thought you were gonna tell me that this was a mistake,” Harry mumbles.

Niall feels guilty then, guilty for having ever said that the first time round.

 “When I left Ni…” And his chest tightens just thinking about it “It was the hardest thing I ever had to do, it was the most messed up, I moved to fucking L.A, barely spoke to my mum or Gem, I was literally trying to forget anything that reminded me of you because I loved you and I’d never felt that before, I didn’t like the control you had over me.”

Niall wants to say that he understands, but he doesn’t think he’ll ever get it.

He doesn’t know what to say, how to react and so he does what feels right.

“I love you Harry,” He admits, and it almost hurts to say it, because he’s been trying to bury it for so long.

The breathing near his ear is shallower

“You do?”

“Don’t make me say it twice, not yet,” Niall replies gently, trying to let Harry know that it’s hard for him.

“Yeah, it’s just Niall, I love you too, I really do.”

He turns to face green eyes and with a hand pushing back brown curls he smiles

“I know Harry, I know.”

 

***

 

Barbara’s gone for good by the time they get downstairs; at least that’s what his ma tells him.

“She’s left, taken most of her stuff and is getting on the first flight back to London.”

Niall winces at how bad this all sounds, thinks about how he’s going to deal with their living arrangements.

“Ma, I’m- I’m sorry about what happened back there.”

Her blues eyes are soft when they look at him and he’s caught off guard when he feels her hug him tightly.

“Don’t apologise, not for this Niall.”

He gets it, gets that she knows, that practically everyone can see just how hung up on Harry he is.

 

***

 

It’s weird, being with Harry again, especially in front of the lads.

It kind of feels like he’s gone back in time only now he knows where the hell he stands with the taller man.

And Louis has never looked so proud, because in reality if it wasn’t for him this would never have happened.

So yeah, maybe Niall does thank him away from the others, lets Louis have his victory dance because it’s the least he can do.

Zayn tells him he’s done the right thing, tells him that he’s on the verge of asking Liam about marriage, that’ll it be something he does once the fallout from Niall’s failed attempt dies down.

He can’t help but scowl at the wording and his head is swimming, swimming with thoughts about his dad, and what he’d be thinking about this all.

 

***

 

Niall drives late to the cemetery a few days later and talks to him.

“You should’ve seen it Da, it was madness, you’d have loved it.”

He kneels down and wipes at the picture before continuing.

 “I mean, I know it’s not ideal, what with Harry living in L.A and all but I was thinking, well maybe he and I could move here for a bit, just while we get things back on track, I think Ma might like that.”

The silence is filled with answers that only he can hear.

When he crawls into bed that night, Harry’s skin beneath his fingertips, he’s never felt so at home.

**Author's Note:**

> My tumblr is Narrywillbethedeathofme if you want to leave prompts and whatnot.


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